Misadventures of a Time-Trapped Fansie
by FabulousDalek
Summary: During a modern-day school trip to NYC, Victoria finds herself trapped in 1899, just after the newsboy strike made famous by one of her favorite musicals. Trapped in the wrong century, she casts in her lot with Jack Kelly, Crutchie, and all of her favorite newsies, resulting in adventures, antics...and several clumsy attempts at imitating stunts. Fandoms collide & craziness ensues.
1. Prologue: Angels Take Manhattan

**Prologue: Angels Take Manhattan**

Number one on the list of things I'd learned today: Weeping Angels were real, and they were all over New York City.

This was just great.

I had jumped at the chance to fill the empty spot on my school's New York City theater trip. Most of the fees that would normally have prevented me from going had already been paid by the girl who backed out, so I got to go for nearly nothing. I left the small-towns that had shaped my life behind and went straight for the big city, ready to watch a bunch of musicals I had never seen. I was almost constantly squealing in excitement. The only thing that could have made this trip better would have been getting to see one of my favorite musicals. Alas, for I only discovered the wonders of _Newsies _after it had already closed. I would not be seeing my darling boys on this trip. Sigh.

Mistake Number One: I got separated from the group. I paused to stare at some angel statues that, to the Doctor Who fan in me, looked suspicious. The rest of the group went on ahead, but my years of watching my favorite Time-Lord had ingrained in me an instinct to stare at any statue I saw. I should have run. I should have just walked by. Instead, I had to go and make myself a target.

Mistake Number Two: I blinked. I didn't think I was in any real danger, despite the fact that this particular statue looked just like an angel weeping. I only stopped for a joke. The next thing I knew, the formerly "weeping" angel was right in front of me, claws and teeth bared. I didn't know what was happening; my heart plunged straight down to my stomach-liver area as I tried to maintain contact with the creature. I was hallucinating, right? Weeping angels didn't exist; was anyone else seeing this?

Mistake Number Three: caught up in my urge to determine whether other people could see the statue threatening to attack me, I looked away and glanced around at the crowd. Before I could see even one jaw-dropped expression, the world around me blurred into a swirl of color and I collapsed, not knowing what was happening, not knowing _how _it was happening, and not knowing what would happen next.


	2. Chapter One: What In Time and Space?

**Chapter One: What in Time and Space?**

My brain hurt.

I honestly don't remember much from when I first woke up, my mind was in too much of a fog. I simply lay there, still, trying to recall my last moments before I fell asleep. Was I back in the hotel? No. The hotel didn't stink like wherever this was. What was that smell? Ugh. I listened, not yet wanting to open my eyes. Shouting. The clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones. I was outside then. But why would I fall asleep outside? And where were the other students?

My eyes snapped open.

Weeping Angels.

My mind kicked from sleep-fog to overdrive in milliseconds, immediately recalling the events of every _Doctor Who _episode involving the Weeping Angels. What was my situation like? "The Angels Take Manhattan," probably my least favorite episode involving them, and I didn't even like Amy and Rory, which was the usual reason why people hated that episode. Stupid Moffat with his stupid writing.

I huffed, sitting up and groaning a little. Everything was sore. Honestly, was that really necessary? Ok, I had to stay calm. But if this was that particular _Doctor Who_ episode then I could still be in danger. But, then again, I wasn't in some hotel room, which I think is what happened in the episode. I had only watched it once, so the details were a bit hazy. I appeared to be in an alleyway, which explained the stink, the place was full of garbage and assorted refuse. Gross. Time to leave.

I crept out of the alleyway and began to make a list in my head: What to Do When Stranded In an Unknown Timeline by Weeping Angels.

_Step One: Get away from said angels._ if applicable. I looked around once I reached the end of the alleyway, a few gargoyles, but no telltale angel statues. Technically, I thought with a shudder, the gargoyles could be angels too, but since I _was_ outside and not trapped in some creepy motel with the statue of liberty breathing down my neck, I think I was in the clear.

_Step Two: Determine what time period you are in._ I looked around again, this time taking in the buildings, the vehicles, the people. I wasn't a history major for nothing; I could do this. The buildings were much smaller, and honestly prettier, though dirtier. There were a few reasonably tall ones, but those were off in the distance. So, I was before skyscrapers completely dominated the New York skyline. This assumed I was still in New York, but angels usually focused on time not distance, and the buildings alone indicated a pretty big time jump. Next, the vehicles. No cars. Well, wait, there was a car, a screechy, rambling thing that looked like Stanley from _Cars, _minus the eyes and not being a statue. I shivered again, I couldn't seem to get statues out of my head. So, turn of the century, early 1900s? There were lots of passerby, most of them dressed in poorer quality clothing, so I couldn't quite tell what era it was meant to be from. Hmmm. I paused, head on my chin, when a man passed in a long coat, vest, and top hat, accompanied by a lady in a dress of deep plum with a full skirt and bustle, wider than 1910s fashions but narrower than mid-1800s. That looked late Victorian, maybe early Edwardian, _Importance of Being Earnest _era. I smirked at the thought of that play. It was hilarious! There was nothing that I saw that I could narrow down to a specific date, or even a specific season. It was a bit warm, though here the buildings and bodies pressing in only seemed to make things worse. Maybe summer? The sun burned down across the street, low in the sky, making it either early morning or late afternoon, but I had no way to know which.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think of what to do. I still couldn't pin down exactly what year it was, and even if I could, where would I go? What would I do? I fell back against the brick wall of the alley as the hopeless confusion rushed over me. I was in a different time. I was in a different time on a one-way trip. I was never going to see anyone I loved ever again!

Tears couldn't even come.

I sank down against the wall, trying to make sense of an impossible situation.

I don't know how long I sat there before I heard the call.

"Extra! Extra! Devastating Derailment over Dangerous Divide!"

My head rose a little. I was like that sometimes, a completely irrelevant outside stimulus could drive me to do something I knew I needed to do. This unfortunately sometimes made it look like I had been up to no good, when I appear to be hiding something from my parents, but really I only closed that tab because their presence reminded me of something I needed to do.

No. I couldn't despair. For all I knew, this wasn't even real. I mean, I could always tell when I was dreaming, but an elaborate dream would make more sense than what had actually happened. And even if it wasn't a dream, sitting around moping wouldn't do me any good. I had to do something. I had to survive for one thing, either until I woke up or indefinitely. I could...find a telephone! They wouldn't be on every street corner yet but I could do my best and then maybe I could contact...whom? My family? I wouldn't even know who was alive, and that would be the biggest possible prime directive violation ever. I knew exactly who I would call. After all, if the weeping angels existed in whatever universe I had stumbled into, the Doctor must as well. Perhaps turn-of-the-century NYC was not as scrambled as 1938 NYC and he could take me straight home no questions asked. This led me to Step Number Three: Don't Panic.

As I heard the continued hawking of the newsboy evidently somewhere down the street, my thoughts drifted unwittingly to my "Song Of the Day," courtesy of my crazy brain that never stopped having a song stuck in it. Today's song was "Carrying the Banner" from _Newsies_, as it had been for the past week. I had tried listening to the thing, watching the thing, reading fan-fiction on the thing, and even ignoring the thing, but the song stayed put. I wondered sometimes if the Phantom (yes, that Phantom), who had previously held the rights to my brain's soundtrack with little competition, was jealous. I hoped not, I wouldn't want to be on his bad side.

Anyway, the newsboy, combined with the song, gave me an idea. What did they put at the top of the newspaper? The date! If I could see a paper, I could know what year I was in, even the day! Then maybe I could find a way to call the Doctor, or simply find a place to sleep, but I could think of that later, that was not the task at hand. The task at hand was to find when I was, then figure out what to do about it.

"Excuse me," I said, stepping out into the street. Surprisingly, all the passerby ignored me, despite my outlandish outfit of a _Star Trek_ t-shirt, jeans, and denim jacket, combined with my being a girl. I guess they were all too busy with their business. I quietly approached the real-life newsie, and noticed with a smirk that his dark red undershirt (at least I think the sleeveless ones were undershirts) matched those of the musical's Brooklyn newsies exactly. Of course, this boy was no Spot Conlon. Though he had some rather intimidating muscle, he was much taller, actually taller than me. Ok, that wasn't fair, Spot was taller than me too; he had that right by a mere inch. Either this was a great coincidence, or the costume designers did an insane amount of research.

"Excuse me, could I see that for a moment?" I asked, eyeing the boy's last newspaper.

The boy, teenager, young man, whatever, stared at me like I had dropped out of the sky. He appeared to be the first one to notice my get up, and he clearly wasn't impressed.

"If you'se wantin' ta see the pape, ya have to buy it." he said.

I closed my eyes at the brief frustration. I, being from over a century later, did not have any current currency. Maybe if I had a smudged enough coin he wouldn't be able to see the date...

"Right. Sorry. Let me just..."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my very modern wallet, complete with automatic car keys with buttons that beeped and a machine printed pattern. I gulped when I realized my phone was still in my other pocket. I had brought a cellphone into the past with me! Mr. Spock would be so disappointed. I dug through my little wallet, keeping the side with the color photograph of me on my student ID turned away from the boy who was staring down at my every move. I could only hope we weren't attracting a crowd.

"A penny right?" I said, fishing out a blackened, slightly green-tinged old coin that had long lost any semblance of a penny.

The boy nodded, and didn't break eye contact as I handed him the coin and he handed me the paper. I breathed a sigh of relief and took a few steps away, unrolling the paper to look at the top. It was a copy of the _New York World, _something else that made my brain scream _Newsies_! I really needed to learn to fight that urge. I searched for the date in the corner, September 13th, 1899. So, I was right on with my deductions, it was fall, and, as my brain decided to remind me, a mere month past the real-life newsboy strike that inspired the film and musical.

I didn't get the chance to peruse the rest of the paper before a voice called out behind me.

"Hey!" I turned to find the newsboy I had just technically swindled stomping toward me.

"This's a fake!" he said, stuffing my penny in my face, "What'you tryin' ta pull?"

I took a step back, desperately trying not to draw attention to myself.

"I-I'm sorry..." I stammered, "I really needed a paper... here you can have it back."

"I cans't sell it now, you'se gots it all wrinkled! I'll tell ya what I should do."

Before I could react, the boy had grabbed me one-handed by the collar and shoved me into the alley. Clearly, the fact that I was a girl didn't matter to this young man. I went into self-defense mode. I covered my face with my elbow before he could punch me, gripping the wrist that held me with my right hand. I threw a kick to that particular weak area all boys have, and used the momentum as he winced in pain to sling his arm off me and then slam it hard in the elbow with my left forearm. As he sank toward the ground under my unexpected move and pressure, I threw another kick to his side for good measure. I let go and took off running, leaving the paper behind.

I slowed when I hit the crowds of people, probably heading home from work. I dodged as many as I could, but they still slowed my step to the extreme. I heard some shouting and pounding steps behind me and realized that the boy must have recovered from my self-defense faster than I would hope. I had to get out of here, fast.

Well, I turned a lot of corners and ran down a lot of streets, but I wasn't exactly in the best shape, so I didn't get far, especially because I made a wrong turn down an alley and found myself face to face with two more boys who just so happened to have matching outfits with the one chasing me. As soon as they saw him, they grabbed me, and I knew I couldn't fight off both of them at once. I stopped, and the first boy caught up.

"Hey, watch'u doin' chasin' some girl? Did'she say no to a date?" one of the boys holding me asked.

I would have smack him if both my arms weren't pinned.

"She thinks she's is smaht, tryin' to cheats me with a fake."

I felt the grip on me tighten, and in my panic, the truth slipped out.

"It's not a fake." I said.

The boys all glared at me.

"'Den why's it say 1993 where the date's'posed to go?" my accuser asked.

Honestly, they slurred and accented their speech so much I could hardly understand them.

"Because..." I gulped, "because I'm from the future."

"Ah, so she's crazy," said the other guy holding me. The first one laughed.

"Well, you're not wrong." I said, "But I'm not crazy about this...nope! ...probably just dreaming."

I realized I was rambling, but it hardly mattered if I wasn't getting punched. "'Tell you what. Have y'all ever heard of a parley?"

"That fancy decoration they puts on the hotel dinners?" one asked. I saw the first boy cracking his knuckles and I tried not to wince.

"No, not parsley. Parley; it's an old pirate term. Basically, it means you take me to your leader, and y'all can't harm me 'til we get there. Got it?"

I didn't know if it was a real pirate term or not, but I also didn't know what was real anymore, so I went where my brain told me, as we all do.

The boys relaxed a bit at this.

"You'se wants to see our leada'" said one of the boys.

"yyyyyEeesssss?" I said, uncertainly. A somewhat sinister smile crossed every face.

"Aiight missy, we'll take ya ta see Spot."

And with that they half dragged me out of the alley and down the street, me jogging to keep up, my mind racing ahead.

"Wait. Spot? As in Spot Conlon? But..." I didn't finish my though out loud, but it was in my head.

Spot Conlon was real?


	3. Chapter Two: Brooklyn Newsies

**Chapter Two: Brooklyn Newsies **

Well, dear reader, if you are indeed from the same dimension as I, you might know something about the real 1899 newsboy strike. Actually, you probably don't, because while this period of reform is discussed in history books, this specific strike sadly slips through textbook writers' fingers. After all, no kid would want to read about a bunch of kids their age doing something of historical significance, am I right? Sorry, the history/education major in me hated when cool historical events got ignored, especially when the cool historical event had a MUSICAL.

Ignoring my rantings, I can tell the average reader that the leader of the real strike was not the handsomely charismatic Jack Kelly, but a boy named Kid Blink. As for Brooklyn, I had no idea, but if Spot Conlon existed, he didn't make any history that I knew of, and the fact that my ever so helpful escorts all happened to be dressed like they were in the musical, I was somewhat suspicious that I had somehow stumbled into an alternative past from my own. Of course, given everything else I had seen that day, I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised fictional worlds were real. I had been sent here by a WEEPING ANGEL of all things! This sent my mind whirling through all the contradictions that proved not every fictional world could be real. After all, Khan didn't try to take over the world in the nineties (1990s not 1890s). Who knew what I was up against? I certainly didn't. Did everyone randomly burst into song? I would be cool with that, as long as the song wasn't called "Let's Soak this Random Chick We Found on Our Turf."

I kept all of these thoughts to myself, saving them for when I could see and assess the infamous King of Brooklyn. If I wasn't terrified, I would be fangirling so hard right now. I figured my best chance of somehow avoiding a fight, jail, or asylum was to prove I was telling the truth, that I was from the future. From there, I didn't know what. Try to get in on selling papers? Look for a factory? Head to Manhattan and try my luck there? I had absolutely no idea what the future would hold, but I would have to eat and support myself for a while. I shuddered at the thought of a factory, knowing I might not last long, as I was unaccustomed to the terrible and dangerous working conditions of this time period, but I might be too old for a job like these boys had. Not to mention, I needed to get new clothes, and shoes, and had no legitimate money... Basically, no matter what way I looked at it, I was doomed. Fun!

The boys seemed to be taking me clear across Brooklyn, by a bunch of alleys and backways that surprisingly few people walked on. I hadn't even had the time to acknowledge that the Weeping Angels had sent me from Manhattan 2019 to Brooklyn 1899, so there was some spacial displacement, but I had more important things occupying my mind, like how I was going to persuade Spot that I was a nice person from the future who needed help, not a beating. I jolted out of my thoughts when we came to a halt. We were at the end of yet another stupid alleyway, though this one admittedly had less garbage. Against the back wall of the alley dangled a rusty ladder. A fire-escape. The boy not holding one of my arms in a vice grip reached up and pulled the ladder down.

"Riggs, you first." said one of the boys holding me. The boy I beat up earlier began to climb the fire escape at the end of the alleyway.

"You next" he said, giving me a push.

"Excuse you." I muttered as I gripped the ladder rungs. If I wasn't curious as to our destination, I would make a break for it, but as it was, I felt my only chances were either here, or possibly in Manhattan. Plus, if I was right and this was post-strike, then I might have an easier time getting over to Manhattan if I could get through here first.

When I reached the top of the ladder, Riggs grabbed my wrist and jerked me to him, as though I could run away on the rooftops. What was I going to do? Jump? Not likely.

"Watch it!" I said, jerking futilely at his hand, "I might have to kick you again."

I suppose that must have sounded pretty funny to him, because he chuckled, ironic considering how I was pretty successful in my earlier kick. The other boys, whose names I later learned to be Jim and Lanky, clambered up the ladder behind me, then resumed their places on either side, holding my arms like a dog's mouth gripping a favorite toy.

The rooftops were close enough together that we didn't have to step over too many terrifying gaps, and before too long we approached what appeared to be the stereotypical old abandoned warehouse. I wondered if this was considered more original in this time period than my own. The warehouse had a roof entrance door, on which Riggs rapped four times, lending me to shudder a little. Crap. If Weeping Angels were real, the Master might be real too. I had always thought the musical's version of Pulitzer looked like he could be the Master, an evil Time-Lord and the Doctor's nemesis.

No, I didn't need to think about that now. I had one problem to deal with, and that was getting out of this encounter in one piece. Besides, if my timing was right, Pulitzer was behaving now, so if he were the Master, he would still be in "Long-Term Evil Plan" phase, meaning he wouldn't do anything too bad for a while yet.

I was marched into the narrow staircase that led down into the warehouse, well, only to the balcony of the warehouse. A narrow shaft of light trailed down from a hole in the ceiling to highlight around ten to fifteen other boys below. To get to them we had to use another ladder, in the same order we went before.

Unluckily for me, my first glimpse of the real Spot Conlon was not of him at all, but rather me being blinded by the stupid shaft of sunlight directly over his face.

"Hisssss... The hideous light of the day-star!" I murmured to myself.

"What?" said Lanky.

"Nothing." I said, taking a deep breath to prepare my next move.

"I caught this goil tryin' ta pay me fakes; she said she wanted a Presley." Riggs announced, facing Spot.

Jimmy and Lanky shoved me down in the middle of the ring of boys. I was looking at a crate and a pair of legs wearing beat-up black trousers and socks and boots so dirty I couldn't tell if they matched or not. The skin-tone appeared to match Spot, but the sun was too bright for me to look up. Curse my sensitivity!

"Parley...I said Par-lay." I growled from the concrete.

"She says it means she gets to be speakin' wit you." said Jim. Riggs coughed, annoyed.

"Is that so?" spoke a voice above me, and I finally managed to adjust and squint enough to peer up at the guy who lounged on a crate like a throne.

"Yup." I said, more in confirmation to myself than to Spot's question; it was definitely him. I raised my arms quickly, trying to shake off the two boys who still gripped my shoulders. My efforts failed due to the unfortunate law of gravity. With a curt nod from Spot, the boys relinquished their hold.

"Thanks." I said, brushing off the shoulders of my denim jacket.

"So why's you wantin' to speak to me?" Spot asked. I realized I had never noticed how surprisingly chiseled his facial features were, that was a problem, er no, it wasn't a problem, because I was going to contain my fangirling...

"Because I love you... wait."

I face-palmed at myself, then looked up to notice that Spot's face hadn't even changed. I was a mess. I was a fangirling mess. Why did I do these things? Now they were sure to think I was crazy.

"Ok, to explain, actually, there's no way to explain that. I'm just a huge fan and stupid stuff like that slips out because I've only ever seen you in pictures and video where I can squeal over anyone I want and no one can hear me." I panted, out of breath from my ridiculous, rambling attempt at a cover-up. I flashed a sloppy grin, hoping my non-existent charm would get me out of this situation.

Spot raised an eyebrow, "You break out of an asylum or somethin'?"

"No." I said, "and I'll ask right now that you not put me in one, no matter how crazy I sound. I promise I'm only violent to people who hurt me or my friends, like Riggs over there."

I adjusted my sitting position to something more comfortable, relieving my aching legs, relaxing, as though I was totally calm and normal and not at all freaking out. The ghost of surprise crossed Spot's face, which gave me some much needed confidence.

"Well, when he 'confronted' me about the fake, he used a one-handed collar grab, and I used my mystical fighting techniques from the distant island of Okinawa to, how is it you say it, 'soak' him?" I applied a lopsided grin to finish off my slightly dramatized description of my karate. In the age of random freak shows and scam products on every corner, I thought they might be impressed by the idea of fighting skills from far-away Asia.

"This true Riggs?" Spot asked, looking over at the boy. I thought I detected a blush underneath all the grime smearing his face; he gave a tiny nod.

"And by the way," I continued, not wanting to lose my momentum, "the penny is not a fake, it's just in the wrong timeline."

"The wrong _what?" _

"Timeline. I'm actually from the future." I said, before anyone could interrupt, "And before you interject, I have proof."

I knew this was a risk, but hey, maybe these boys liked a good show, and if I entertained them enough they would not beat me up and maybe even help me out some. I whipped out my iPhone 5c, waving it around with a dramatic spin ending in a bow.

"Ladies and gentleman, newsies and kings," I threw in a nod to Spot, "May I present to you from the distant future of the Year of Our Lord Two-Thousand and Nineteen, the cellular phone." I held the device, in its galaxy print case, up for Spot's inspection, then quickly flicked it away. Some of the boys in the ring were smirking, maybe they were enjoying the show, or maybe they were looking forward to pounding me in a minute. Regardless, I had to keep moving forward.

"Allow me to demonstrate its power, but first!" I held up a finger for the pause, "Examine the material of the outer casing. This is called plastic, if you haven't heard of it, worry not! It won't be available until the year 1907. Observe how it contains on its surface a depiction of the stars, which by the way, 1969, man walks on the moon, that's right, the actual moon that's up in the sky..."

Someone in the ring of boys grunted skeptically, and I realized I didn't have the leeway to trail off, overwhelm them too much and they'd still think I was crazy. They'd know a scam when they saw one; they made money off of them.

"Now, I shall turn the device on." I did so, pressing the power button so the screen glowed, still displaying the time and date as though I hadn't left the present...er...future...timey-wimey...moving on. The boys gasped appropriately as the screen lit up. "For any of you who were there for the end of the strike, as I know some of were, you might recognize the phrase here," I said.

The screen was a photo from the musical, over which were printed the words, "Once and for all we won't carry no banners that don't spell freedom."

"You been spyin' on us?" said Spot, threatening to stand up.

"No, no! Of course not!" I laughed a little, knowing it sounded pathetic. "They make a musical about y'all in the future, I'm a bit of a fan. It's weird though, because there's no historical evidence that you" I pointed at Spot, "exist, and it's a fact that Jack Kelly didn't exist, and that Katherine Pulitzer died of pneumonia as a little girl, so I don't know exactly where I am, but I promise I have not been spying on you. I'm not even from here, I'm from down south."

"Joisey?" Spot asked, and I almost snorted in laughter.

"Alabama. Right above the Florida panhandle." I winced when I once again remembered what time period it was, "Oh! But Alabama in the future, when all people have equal rights and stuff, and that's actually enforced, not like the loopholes and poll taxes they'll have going on down there right now...by the way, 1920 women get the right to vote, and I just realized I can't vote again, crap, don't know who I'd even vote for though, last election was McKinley and William Jennings Bryan right? And now Teddy Roosevelt's off campaigning for vice-president, right?" Apparently I spouted random facts when I was nervous. Cool.

Spot shrugged. "All that that ain't made up is in the papes, you ain't from no future."

"Yeah, I am, actually" I said, less desperate and more annoyed that my historical knowledge was getting me nowhere. "Back to my phone."

The boys on the outer edges crammed in, eager to see the mysterious device. I unlocked it, and pulled up my music.

"You might have heard of the phonograph, invented by Thomas Edison, which plays music and people's voices. Well, this device does the same thing, but with no records or giant trumpet speaker."

What song should I select? Nothing to scare them, which eliminated _Newsies_, most anything modern, and the Overture to _Phantom of the Opera_, Well, when I thought about it, that one could be fun. I hit play, and the sound of an organ blasted through the empty warehouse, echoing off the walls. The boys jumped back, even Spot, and I quickly stopped the music.

"Now, as I mentioned this device is a phone, like a telephone, but sadly as it hasn't been invented yet it won't call anyone, but the phone also functions as a camera." I pulled it up, being sure to allow Spot to see the touch screen. I turned on the front-facing camera, and angled so both Spot and I were on the screen.

"Smile!" I said, and pushed the button. I tapped the photo in the bottom corner to show everyone. "Captured immediately, and in color! Whaddya think of that?"

Spot crossed his arms, considering. I meanwhile was freaking out, because I was the only person in possession of a selfie with the real-life King of Brooklyn! What even?

"So..." he said, and I tore my attention away from my screen. "If you'se is tellin' the truth, what would you want from us?" He eyed me appraisingly, which did not at all cause me to gulp.

"Well for one, I would appreciate not getting beat up for the paper thing. When I first got here, I didn't know when exactly I was, and needed something with a date on it to..." I cut off as I realized Spot was chuckling.

"We don' soak goils." He said. "Scare em' a bit maybe, but I'm more...gentlemanly than that." With that he put on a half-smile that made me nearly dissolve into fangirl hysterics. I did let out a high-pitched hiss of excitement, which I'm sure made him reconsider the crazy thing, but that was the most I did.

"Ok, in that case I am very grateful and congratulate you on this policy. But I still need you to keep quiet about the stuff I've shown you. If I know anything from the stuff I've read, time is a delicate thing, and I don't need 1899 knowing about the existence of technology that won't be around for another century."

Spot nodded.

"So now I just need to find a job and a place to stay until I can figure out how to get home..." I trailed off, rubbing my hands together, knowing my possibilities on this front were severely limited. "But I doubt you could help with that, unless you happen to know where some jobs are going that won't kill me right away or something like that..."

He leaned back on his crate, stroking his chin. I didn't know he did that! Cool! The Brooklyn newsies all had relaxed their stances, which I took as a sign that they must at least like me a little bit. This was good. This was good. I could do this. I could totally survive in the past. I was fine. This was fine. I realized suddenly that I had been hopping from foot to foot, my hands flapping a little as I tried to drive off excess energy. I clasped my hands together, rocking back on my heels. I had to at least be relatively still...

"You canst stay here." Said Spot, "Least not afta' tonight."

"Um...ok?"

"Tomorrow I'm makin' a visit to 'Hattan,"

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

"If you'se wants, you can come too, maybe they'll take a likin' ta you, Kelly's always helpin' out guys he don' know."

This boy, man, young man? Still not sure on the age thing, but whatever, this guy was offering me the chance to meet JACK KELLY. I admit it, I squealed right then and there. Riggs and Lanky both jumped back, along with another boy whose name I didn't know.

I covered my mouth with my hands, trying to contain any further screaming.

"Oops." I murmured. "That would be wonderful, thank you."

The Brooklyn Lodging House was only a few blocks away from the Old Abandoned Warehouse *TM. I'll admit, dear reader, I was a little surprised when Spot said I'd be staying with him and his boys that night; my brain must have skipped over that part of my acceptance into the group. Brooklyn's King made it clear it was just for tonight. When most of his boys had gone on ahead, he explained to me that while Brooklyn was the best selling turf in New York, it was also the roughest, and he didn't like to risk any girls getting hurt, or worse, as precious few could defend themselves on the streets. Besides, he claimed he was too busy to be training anyone new who had no experience with literally anything, something I understood. I also appreciated his sentiment, it hinted at the secret soft side so many fanfics claimed he possessed.

When we reached the lodging house, Spot led the way through the first floor, mostly an open space with a smattering of broken down furniture, to the second, and up to the third, both of which were crowded with bunks. The staircase continued on past the third floor toward the roof, but Spot turned and walked around the stairs, where a ratted blanket hung over the alcove beneath the stairs. He pulled it back to reveal a mattress pad with the stuffing falling out, a blanket, and a wad of rags that somewhat resembled a pillow. The walls were plastered with yellowed newspapers, probably from unsold papers. Spot rooted through the rags and grabbed a sock, some brass knuckles, and a small knife.

"Is this your bed?" I asked.

Spot straightened, pocketing his items. "It's yours tonight. Thought you might likes some privacy."

"Well thank you." I said, making my way over. I dodged several piles of who knows what, guess that's what I got for staying the night with a pack of boys. I sat down on the lumpy "mattress" and knew it would be a long night. Still, I hated to take Spot's...er...spot...sorry, I couldn't resist. "Where will you sleep?"

"We has a couple empty bunks out here, just that's mine as leader and stuff." He turned and began to empty his pockets onto one of the beds, which didn't look any more comfortable than his regular one. "Oh, and ya might want to keep that curtain closed 'til I say so, some of 'da boys like ta sleep in the...er...without..." he paused, and I could tell he was searching for words, I decided to cut him off and save him the trouble.

"I get it. Thanks for the warning," I smiled, still hardly believing my eyes and ears. "and thanks for letting me stay."

Spot smirked, and opened his mouth like he would say something more, but then a stomping echoed up the stairs and soon the room was filled with chatting, yelling, and fighting boys. The King of Brooklyn sighed, raising his toned arms, then sending clenched fists out, silencing the troop of newsies.

"I just realized we never gots your name." he said. I brushed my hand through my hair, briefly wondering if I should give my real one, in case future/past me found documents later.

"Victoria." I said, taking the plunge.

"Nice ta meet ya Vic-toria," he said it with a little pause in the middle, which caused a small giggle to slip out of my mouth.

"Nice to meet you, Spot," I replied, "Goodnight."

He seemed almost taken aback by my simple phrase, but then his smirk returned.

"G'night." He said.

I let the curtain drop, suddenly breathing hard. Did I just flirt with Spot Conlon? I didn't even know how to flirt? I was probably just being friendly, right? Ok. I'm sure it would be fine. I'd be heading to Manhattan tomorrow, and then...and then...

As I lay there, tossing and turning on a pile of rags under a moth-eaten blanket, still fully clothed except for my jacket, which joined the rags in supporting my head, reality finally came crashing down on me. I was alone. My family wasn't born. I wasn't born! What in time and space was I going to do?

I heard the muffled creaks and thumps of the Brooklyn Newsies going to bed, and the tears began to slip out. I was alone. I could never go home. I would never see my family again. I would never see my friends again. I could never get to sleep in this dump (no offense to Spot, I was just 21st century spoiled by having a real bed.) To make a long story short, I was completely doomed.


	4. Chapter3:I Scream a Lot &MakeNewFriends!

**Chapter Three: I Scream A Lot and Make New Friends!**

I was wrong about never being able to get to sleep. I guess that's what a busy day of getting sent back in time, running from newsies, persuading newsies you got sent back in time, and having fangirl attacks does for a body. In fact, I managed to sleep through a small army of boys getting up and ready for the day. Spot came back and woke me after he had already been up and selling papers for several hours. He brought with him a shirt, which I strongly suspected was the only actual over-shirt the Brooklyn newsies owned, that I put on over my t-shirt. My darling denim jacket would have to be left behind, along with my jeans. Although jeans did exist, they didn't look like my jeans. The only reason I could keep my t-shirt was that it went on under the button-up. Trying to put on pants with suspenders was an experience, especially as they were a bit big.

"Do you have a rope or something?" I called through the blanket.

I heard a series of shuffling noises, and a loud crash that sounded like one of the bunks had fallen over. A hand shot under the blanket, holding a short length of thin rope in a fist. "Thanks!" I grabbed the rope and tied it around my waist, securing the pants, then rolled up the cuffs. I wore my solid all-black converse high-tops, which would hopefully pass for work boots until I could get something else. Fortunately for me, The King of Brooklyn liked to keep his hair neat, so I even borrowed his comb to make my hair look not just-slept-in.

Finally, I pulled the curtain back and revealed myself. I struck a pose outside the curtain, showing off my "new" outfit.

"What do you think?"

Spot strode over from where he had been leaning against a bunk. He took off his hat.

"I think," he said "you'se needs ta hide that hair." He tossed me the cap.

I'd like to say I caught the cap. I didn't, but I made a valiant effort. I dove, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor clutching the hat with Spot laughing over me. I grinned, doing my best to brush it off. I tried not to think about how dirty the hat was, or how dirty any of these clothes were, as I bunched my hair up on top of my head and stuffed the cap down over it.

"Better?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips and grinning.

"Almost." He stepped forward and reached for a strand of my hair, tucking it beneath the cap. I felt heat creep into my cheeks. Human contact, possibly affectionate. Abort! Abort! "Now let's head over to 'Hattan."

I didn't breathe until Spot stepped back. "Allons-y!" I said, bounding down the stairs ahead of him. "It's 'let's go' in French!" I called back up. Spot shook his head, smiling, and proceeded down the stairs after me. Together, the two of us set off to Manhattan, my future home.

"I'm dying. I can't believe it. I'm dying. Don't mind me, I'll just fall over and die right now. Here lies Victoria..."

I glanced over at Spot and saw his mouth hanging open slightly, "Oh no, not literally. I'm just really excited." I grinned in an I'm-definitely-not-crazy manner.

Spot closed his mouth and nodded. I watched as his face completely changed, putting on an emotionless mask, and I realized how much he had changed in the less than 24 hours I had known him. I would be a little sorry to leave.

Then again, I could see who waited at the end of the Brooklyn Bridge, and bounced up and down with energy. There, just within the sight of my vision, stood my destiny. Ok, that was a little dramatic, but I was extreme-mode into this fandom, and this was past the point of no return. Lined up on the Manhattan side of the bridge stood, in order, Racetrack Higgins, Davey Jacobs, Crutchie Morris (*sigh* my baby), and finally, the one and only, Jack Kelly (insert extreme fangirl screech here). This would be why I claimed I was dying.

"You'se stay back till I tells ya." Spot said.

"Ok." I said. We approached the Manhattan newsies, the late morning sun beating down on the bridge. I stood a little behind Spot as he strode up to Jack, wishing I had his confidence. The pair simultaneously spat into their palms, then shook. I noticed Jack wasn't looking at Spot, but rather staring directly at me. My hands flailed a little, and I quickly balled them into fists to keep them still. The other boys were staring at me too. I ducked my head, but then remembered that I was with Spot, and needed to make him look good,

_Not that he doesn't make himself look good._..

Ugh. My brain needed to stop.

I decided to stare them down like the tough person I definitely was not. I fixed my stare on Crutchie, as he was roughly in the middle, and a smile burst across his face. My gaze faltered, that smile really did spread like butter. I covered my mouth with my hand to conceal my incessant giggling.

"Sounds good, let's go grab somethin's ta eat." Jack's words jerked me away from my fantasies. I realized I had missed Jack and Spot's entire conversation. The boys all turned toward Manhattan, and I skipped to catch up to them. I was still behind the rest of the boys; I guess Spot never got around to introducing me properly. That was down to me. I skipped up until I was in the middle of the Manhattan Newsies.

"Hiya boys!" I said. Davey jumped, clearly not realizing I was right next to him.

"I'm Victoria, and I know all of your names." I pointed to each in turn, "You go by Race, you by Davey, and you by Crutchie!" I may have been a little too excited about this, causing my voice to go much higher than usual.

The boys muttered a chorus of hi-s. Spot looked back at me from where he was walking ahead with Jack, clearly continuing their fancy leader discussion. I waved energetically, and he waved back, and I detected a smile on his face.

"And, how exactly do you know all of our names?" Davey asked, his brow narrowed.

"Well, it's a bit difficult to explain..."

"Goil of mys-tar-ie then?" Race said, leaping around until he walked backwards in front of me.

"You might could say that." I replied, trying not to laugh at his antics.

"Why's you dressed as a boy?" asked Crutchie. I looked over at him. Amazing. I didn't realize how tall he actually was. Ok, to clarify, he was still short, but he was taller than me, which for some reason I never expected. Spot was about like how I imagined, but all the other boys were taller than me. Of course, this wasn't much of a feat, none of them were particularly tall, but still. Crutchie was just my adorable son in my mind to such an extent that I had a hard time believing he was taller than me.

"Whelp, it's because I don't have any girl clothes appropriate for this century, so Spot let me borrow some stuff." I fidgeted a little with Spot's cap. Would want it back when I was dropped off?

"This century?" Davey said, simultaneously with Race, "Whaddya mean this cent'ry?"

"That's the thing I have to explain when we're somewhere more private." Race grinned, and I glared at him. "Don't even think about it, dearie."

Crutchie snickered at that. Race's shoulders slumped, but it didn't take him long to be bouncing off the walls once more.

"Davey, did you ever read _The Time Machine?" _I asked, figuring he was my best bet for having read something.

"no..." he said slowly.

"I did." Crutchie said. I smiled at him. Good for him! I should have known my son was a secret bookworm. I was such a proud mother.

"Ok, well that's probably the closest I can get to explaining until we get to wherever we're going."

Davey's brow furrowed; Race's mouth moved to the side in concentration; Crutchie just looked lost, and Jack and Spot still weren't paying attention. I skipped on, trying not run into anyone, as I was embarrassing myself enough already.

It turned out we were going to Jacobi's, where most of the other Manhattan newsboys were gathered for lunch. I explained everything, going into even more detail than the night before, with less showmanship. I had the advantage of the King of Brooklyn believing me, which gave me some ethos in the eyes of these boys. I managed to get photos of everyone, and even a video of all of them waving. (All but Spot, boy was stoic off his own turf.) While Davey, of course it was Davey, looked skeptical, the rest of the newsies believed me wholeheartedly, and were quite ready to accept me into their clan. I sighed when I looked at Davey, his skeptical face made him look exactly like a friend from school, someone I would never see again.

A good part of me felt ready to burst into song right then and there, but the thing was, I had no idea if everyone sang in, was this real life? I still didn't really know.

"Alright, that's enough lyin' around, the afta'noon edition's about to drop!" Jack said, standing on one of the tables. I hurriedly stuffed the rest of the bread someone gave me into my mouth, rushing out with everyone else.

"'ay new kid, Victoria!" I froze, turning back to Jack, "you'll be with me today, till you gets enough that you'se can sell on your own."

"Ok," I said, not fully comprehending the words. Then they hit me and I screamed.

"Woah..." Jack said, jumping down from the table and rushing toward me. "You'se ok?"

"She does that," called Spot from the door-frame.

"Yeah, I'm just excited is all." I said. I then realized Spot was leaving and I still had his hat, "Hey wait!" He stopped in the doorway, "Don't you want this back?" I tilted my head, not wanting to ruin my tucked hair just yet.

Spot considered for a moment. "Nah, consider it a loan till you can get one of your own." He turned to go, but then stopped again. "And feel free ta visit sometime." He shot me a half-smile and left.

Jack gave a low whistle behind me. "Never thought I'd see that." He said, approaching me.

"Crap, you see it to?" I said, not really meaning to, I had a tendency to panic in situations like this.

"I wouldn't worry about it." He said, clapping his hand to my back, I winced a little, the touch was not unwelcomed, just unexpected. He retracted his hand quickly. I recollected myself; this was fine. This. Was. AMAZING.

"So..." I said, "Shall we?"

I skipped out the door, knowing I had no idea where I was going, but hoping I could catch up with the other newsies. Unfortunately, they were nowhere in sight. I stopped at the first corner I came to, jostled by the crowds around me.

"Hey, wait up!" Jack jogged up next to me. I pointed at the intersection, indicating my confusion. He smirked, pointing to the right, where a large gate stood open at the end of a street.

"Oh."

We walked toward the gate together, stepping inside, where the other newsies were lined up to buy the afternoon paper.

"So I was thinkin' you needs a nickname," Jack said.

"Oh?"

"I'mma call ya Vicky."

"Well that's original" I remarked, but then I considered a moment.

"I've actually never had a nickname before." He raised his eyebrows, seeming surprised. "But I like it." I smiled, and his shoulders sagged in relief.

The line moved on, I caught Crutchie's eye in front of me and waved, he waved back, then turned to pay... the actual Weasel, paired with the actual Delanceys, time and space, a good part of me wanted to stab them or something, but seeing them in person made me realize why they were paid to beat people up, and I knew my skills might not do me much good against both of them at once.

I saw Davey and Les near the front of the line. Les was staring at me, and he tugged on his brother's shirt to get his attention. Davey looked down, then over at me, then back to Les, muttering something. Soon, everyone in line that hadn't been at Jacobi's was staring at me. Given, that wasn't many people, most of them had been there. I wondered where Les had been, since he wasn't with his brother, maybe at home?

"And who is this?" I realized I had reached the front of the line, and now could feel the eyes of everyone, including Weasel and the Delanceys, on me. Well, I had to stand my ground, if I didn't I wouldn't last a week.

"No one of consequence." I said. Apparently, that didn't sit well with them, though I couldn't think why, man those Delanceys were big.

"Relax fellas, Weasel, sh...he's with me." It took Jack a second to remember I was dressed as a guy. He threw down some coins.

"Hundred papes for Jack and the new...boy." I raised my eyebrows at Weasel, daring him to call my bluff. Again, probably a bad idea, but I needed to make a good impression on the newsies more than on these losers.

I didn't know which Delancey was which, but whichever one it was shoved a stack of papers into my arms so hard I stumbled back. I adjusted my stance, lowering my center of gravity, but too late, and several papers skittered off the top. Jack stuffed his papes into his bag and bent over to grab the runaways, and I joined him, setting the others on the ground. Once they were gathered, I marched back up to the table.

"You got a problem with me, dearie?" I said, "Or does all of that random aggression come from the realization that your life is meaningless and you are, in fact, pitiful and pathetic?"

"Oooooooh" chorused the newsies behind me, except for one, who I later learned to be Albert, who shouted, "What?"

Both brothers were glaring at me now, and the one in front was rolling up his sleeves. I smirked, though I was quite terrified.

Jack came up behind me whispering, "We need to run in 5, 4, 3..."

The Delancey I insulted vaulted the distribution table, scattering the few remaining papers**. **

"ONE!" Jack shouted. I scooped up my papes and followed him out the gate, the other newsies filing in behind us, covering our retreat. As we ran, what I just did and said caught up with me.

"I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I did that. I can't BELIEVE I did that. I am so, so dead."

"Come on!" Jack grabbed my hand, pulling me along, but it soon became apparent that no one was following us. The other newsies had all split off to their individual selling sites, leaving just us and the crowds of lower Manhattan.

"Can we slow down? I hath not endurance!" I panted. Jack slowed to a walk, but didn't let go of my hand. Although I most definitely liked one of my fictional crushes holding hands with me, I remembered that this particular crush had a girlfriend. I pulled my hand away.

"Um...What would Katherine say about you..." I gestured to his hand, courage fading with adrenaline. Jack's face darkened. Uh-oh.

"You really does know everyone's names don't ya?" he said, not meeting my eyes.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not gonna like this?"

"Katherine left."

My breath hitched. How dare she?

"She got a job in London, all da way 'cross the ocean."

"I'm sorry." Excuse her. He stayed in New York partly for her, why wouldn't she stay for him?

" 's not your fault." His tone sounded bitter. He spat on the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets. I kicked my shoe against the concrete, waiting.

"Well, we gots papes ta sell, and I know just the right spot." Jack's grin returned, "Whaddya say Vicky?" He took a step closer. I raised my eyebrows at him. An idea bloomed in my mind, bursting with the light of song.

"I say..." I leapt away, spinning around and nearly knocking some people over, "that _WE'LL BE OUT THERE CARRYING THE BANNER MAN TO MAN!"_

"What are you..."

I tried to keep singing, but laughter punctured through the words, I tried a newsies jump, tripped over my own feet, and fell. Jack caught me before I hit the ground, and Spot's cap slid right off my head, causing my hair to spill everywhere.

"Well, that went well." I said, grinning sheepishly. This would be a long afternoon.


	5. Chapter Four: It Ain't a Fine Life

**Chapter Four: It Ain't a Fine Life. I'm Actually Dying. Send Help.**

"...Too ...much ...social ...interaction ...must ...collapse..."

All of the mismatched, broken chairs in the Manhattan Newsboy Lodging House were occupied, so I slumped directly onto the dirt spattered planks of hardwood. Glancing through half closed eyelids, I could see the stunned faces of the newsies who had watched me come in. Jack, who came in with me, shrugged at them, and they gradually returned to their business. Noise filled the room. Dice rolling, cards shuffling, boys running around, fighting, yelling, chasing. I groaned. I covered my ears, trying to tune them out. My position on the floor was uncomfortable, but it was lying down, not out and about, yelling at people hoping that they would pay me money. I had passed things out to people before, but never had I chased them down, waving newspapers in their faces. This was NOT an introvert friendly job, and what did I have to show for it? 40 cents jingling in the pocket of my borrowed pants. Jack said I'd need 30 for tomorrow morning's papers, and the rest would go to food and the fee for staying in the lodge. Jack said tomorrow would be better. I could sell both the morning and evening editions, and before too long I could start saving a little bit. I could get some clothes that fit and weren't borrowed, maybe girl's clothes so I wouldn't have to disguise myself.

Eventually, if I wanted, I could sell by myself. Until then, Jack and I split whatever we co-earned 60-40. I knew he was being kind in this deal; he sold way more papers than I did today. _But,_ I told myself, _this isn't permanent_. _I'll find a better job somewhere...maybe I could get a teaching certificate and teach somewhere...maybe I'll just stay here on the floor forever...that sounds good. _

Something bumped against my arm, something wooden.

"Hey, Vicky? Is you'se OK?"

I rolled my head to the side and opened my eyes. "Hi Crutchie." I groaned, pulling my legs up underneath me to resemble a sitting position. "I'm OK. Just not used to this many people all the time."

"The guys are loud, but they'se nice."

"I know." I sighed. The newsies weren't the only problem. "I'm just really tired." I smiled at him, but my eyes drooped in spite of myself.

"Would you like ta find a bunk?"

"Sure." I said.

He offered a hand, which I took, and he helped me up. Crutchie led the way to the stairs, the layout the same as in Brooklyn's lodging house. I inched my way up behind him, but he was fast; I only had to slow down a little compared to my normal pace. I was so tired, I felt like crawling up the stairs rather than walking. We continued past the second to the third floor.

"The bathroom's down there," Crutchie said, gesturing on the second-floor landing, "But be careful goin' in theres."

"No kidding. I can imagine quite a bit." I smirked, but I knew that bathroom would terrify me.

We reached the third floor, and I followed Crutchie through a maze of bunk beds, all shoved against the walls, sticking out at haphazard angles. Old pillows and blankets and random articles of clothing strew the floor, and I gave up trying not to step on them before we reached the end of the hall.

"There's a closet here." Said Crutchie, "Jack said you might want some privacy."

"He thought right." I said, peeking into the closet. Funny, Spot had said the same thing last night. I was so proud of my gentlemanly sons. The floor outside was piled with spare clothing, recently tossed out. The room had no windows, and was just barely big enough for a "mattress", but it was private. I grabbed an empty looking mattress and began stuffing it inside. Crutchie moved out into the room, gathering a random pillow and a couple of blankets, which he brought back over. I made up the bed as neatly as I could, but there wasn't much I could do, and at this point I hardly cared.

"Thank you Crutchie." I said when the bed was made. My fangirl screeching somehow pierced through my brain-fog despite the long and eventful day.

He smiled back. "Goodnight, Vicky."

"'Night." I said.

Crutchie headed back down the room toward the stairs, and I closed the door to my little room, plunging myself into darkness.

Whoever was incessantly banging on my door was about to be stabbed.

I groaned, pulling my head up from the pillow I gripped in my arms. It was pitch black around me, which confused me until I remembered that I was sleeping in a closet. I reached up and fumbled for the doorknob. It took me way too long to find it. I twisted the knob and practically fell out of my closet, hissing as light from the windows of the lodging house flooded into my hideaway. The banging ceased, along with all other forms of indoor noise as ten or so half-dressed boys gawked at me. Fortunately, I was still wearing my t-shirt and pants, though I knew without looking that my hair was an atrocious mess after the tortures of both a hat and a night's sleep.

"Now which one of you idiots was knocking on the door?" I glared around at the room.

Every finger in the room pointed toward a slightly younger boy, whom I recognized as Romeo.

"Jack told me to," he said, then an attempt at a charming smile broke across his face, "And you certainly are a sleeping beauty." He winked.

I was. not. in. the. mood.

I turned on my patent-pending creepy stare, my brain too half-asleep to feel even the slightest bit bad about it.

"I will stab..." The boy jumped back a little and I realized that some people in here might take my stabbing threats seriously. I softened my features as best I could, but I knew my grumpy mask would not be leaving anytime soon. "You know what, forget it, but seriously? This is way too early for any decent human to be awake."

"Who said we was decent?" someone asked, I didn't bother to identify who.

I yanked my shirt out from the mess of blankets in my closet and pulled it on, wishing I was back at home in my full bed getting to sleep for another two hours at least.

"It's my second day and I'm already so done."

Alas, dear reader, it wouldn't get any better from there.

I couldn't find a comb; no one seemed to have a comb, brush, or any grooming products whatsoever. Henry had a rusting razor, and I suspected that at least _some_ boys in the lodge must have _something_, but this morning everything was misplaced. This, dear reader, is why we stay organized. Running my hands through my hair helped the situation a little, but not much. I grumpily stuffed and jerked a knotted mess under my hat and stomped out the door just behind everyone else.

We got free breakfast from the nuns. I tried not to be bitter about it. I knew I had no valid reason to be bitter about it, but I hated it. I wanted to help people, not accept charity. Still, I refused to be one of those people who rejects charity due to pride, that always felt dumb to me. I reminded myself that I literally had forty cents to my name, and that I was about to spend most of it on papers that I may or may not sell. I, in fact, needed charity.

I drank the worst coffee I had ever tasted, possibly the worst coffee in the universe. I had wondered before why Race described it as "curdled," how could coffee curdle? It could. It definitely could. I nearly threw up, but it was 5 in the morning, and I had a long day ahead. A day may come when I would face caffeine withdrawal headaches, but it was not this day! I held my breath and drank the coffee. I picked bits of mold off of a rock-hard slice of bread. I repeated the same words in my mind over and over.

_I'll get used to it...I'll get used to it..._

A good part of me suspected that I never would.


	6. Chapter 5:It Can't Get Any Worse Right?

**Chapter Five: It Can't Get Any Worse, Right?**

The best part of the day came when we got to the distribution center.

I had been walking with Crutchie, who was trying to cheer me up with corny jokes he had picked up. It was working, not because of the jokes, but because he kept breaking before he could finish them, his smile cracking across his face as he chuckled at his own humor. I had almost forgotten about how tired I was, and how the gross coffee taste was still in my mouth, and how my hair was basically a heap of garbage, and...oh dear, how yesterday the Delancey brothers had wanted to kill me. Wonderful.

"Whaddya call a fake noodle?"

A small smile escaped me; I knew the answer to this one, but I couldn't stick around for the answer. I spotted the steel bars of the gate at the end of the street, Jack already reaching them; he could help me figure out how to handle this nonsense. I turned back to Crutchie,

"You'll have to tell me later, I have to catch up with Jack..."

No wait! Don't look sad! Noooooooo! Ugh. Too late, best move on. I sighed in relief when I heard him resume the joke for another of the boys, then nearly tripped over a loose stone because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Bleh.

I jogged ahead to meet Jack right at the still locked gate.

"So, two questions," I said when I approached, definitely not panting from the brief sprint. Jack turned and grinned at me. I considered both smacking him and just fainting on the spot, but resolved to venture on, "A: which Delancey is which, I feel like that's at least somewhat important, and Two, how exactly do I make sure they don't kill me after yesterday?"

He leaned against the gate, hands in his pockets. Wait no. Wasn't this his flirting pose? This was unacceptable, we literally met yesterday, I should've stuck with Crutchie. He smiled, again, but before I could spontaneously combust, something smacked against the gate, rattling the bars. I jumped. Jack leapt about a foot in the air. The something that smacked it was one of the Delanceys. Both appeared behind the gate, scowling. Well dearies if you weren't morning people you shouldn't have taken this job. I tried to pretend they weren't looking directly at me, but yeah, they definitely were.

"The one in front's Oscar," Jack whispered. I shivered. He had slipped behind me without my noticing, "The other's Morris." I made a mental note. I insulted Morris yesterday. Cool. Good to know, "And if they gives you trouble they'll answer ta all of us."

"I appreciate that Clark." I muttered, tapping my fingers on my leg. Jack's brow furrowed, and I realized I had quoted Christmas Vacation without even meaning to. "Sorry...um...expression from the future..." He nodded, eyebrow raised in a way that should definitely be illegal.

Oscar Delancey fiddled with the gate lock. My finger-tapping grew to foot tapping, anxious energy burning through me that did not need to be there. I had to get it out.

Despite any sane part of my brain telling me that singing songs from movies that did not yet exist would be a bad idea, I was too tired to listen. Inspired by the whole gate-thing, I launched in, "teLL THE GUARDS TO OPEN UP...THE GAAAAAAATES," I switched voices, going higher, pretending someone was still singing the first part and pretending music played behind me, "the gaaaaaaaates..."

Everyone stared at me as the Delanceys slowly pulled the gate open. I glided in, skipping a little, "for the FIRST TIME IN forever, I'm getting what I'm dreaming of, a chance to change MY lonely worl..eeep!" I tripped, sprawling across the ground, my hands and knees scraping against the stones. I lay there a moment, stunned.

"That'll teach you." I heard Morris say above me,

"I don't know Morris, after that display she might be better off in the asylum." Oscar said with a snicker. I guess they had figured out that I was a girl.

I pulled myself up into a sitting position, trying to tune the brothers out and examining my hands. They stung, but they were only a little scraped. I pulled up my pant legs to discover that my right knee was skinned and bleeding. I guessed there wasn't much I could do about that at the moment, but it hurt.

"You'se ok Vicky?" It was Crutchie, he came over and offered a hand.

"I-I'm fine. I'm fine. Just a little scraped up is all." I took his hand, wincing a little as he brushed my stinging palm. His relieved smile just made me want to squeeze him in the tightest hug humanly possible. I loved him so much.

"What's this?"

I turned to see Oscar holding something up to his eyes, turning it over in his hand. It was my phone. Crap.

"That's mine, Oscar."

This was bad. This was very bad. No one else needed to know I came from the future. No one else needed to know what a cell phone was. Especially not people who already despised me. Cold rushed through my bones, a new tingling sensation, different from the first, but with the same source. I wondered which one of the brothers tripped me. Stupid Delanceys, they could have at least let me finish the song.

Oscar smirked, holding my phone in his crossed arms. "Why don't ya come get it then?"

I boi'd him on instinct. Did people still do that? My friends back home did, but I didn't know if people did it elsewhere. Of course sadly, 1899 did not have the same memes.

I took a step toward him, turning on my patent pending creepy stare, which he only seemed to find funnier. I was a sight, I guess, a 5'3" girl in too big boy's clothes with matted hair dangling out of a borrowed hat, glaring down a young man who was literally paid to beat people up. Speaking of, the dork accidentally pushed the home button, and he nearly dropped my phone when the screen lit up on him.

My brain tried to prepare a battle strategy. Unfortunately,it was mostly coming up with an image of a guy shrugging, not helping brain! I took another step, but felt a hand on my shoulder.

"That ain't nice Oscar." Crutchie said, advancing past me. If the Delanceys found anything funnier than me, it was clearly Crutchie. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the other newsies had formed a sort of loose ring around the four of us, watching the show. I wished they would help. Apparently, no one but me understood the importance of keeping my phone out of the wrong hands. That's why I had kept it in my pocket rather than leaving it in the closet. I didn't want to risk it leaving my person.

"You stay out of it, ya lousy crip!" Morris shoved Crutchie to the ground and that was it.

"I will stab you!" I shouted, I leapt at him, really not sure what I was planning, but a hand stopped me, "Jack Kelly you let me go so I can kill this idiot!" He didn't. "Y'all's mother was a hamster and y'all's father smelt of elderberries!" I shouted at the Delanceys.

Jack turned toward the brothers, his face dark, but eyes sparkling with mischief, and I knew immediately that I didn't have to kill them, Jack would do it first. He went for Morris first, feinting one way then hitting another. Knowing Jack probably had it sorted, I knelt down next to Crutchie.

"You ok?" I asked, "We seem to be doing this a lot."

"I'se fine, just gotta get back up."

I noticed his crutch had skittered out of reach, and I dove to get it, probably exerting a lot more energy than necessary. Meanwhile, Jack artfully dodged Oscar and Morris, and while Oscar still held my phone, he was more focused on trying to soak him. I handed Crutchie his crutch to help stand back up. OK, now time to kill some idiots. My hands formed fists, and I lowered my stance to fight and reclaim my phone, when I saw the flash of a hand reach up and snatch it right out of Oscar's raised palm.

"What..."

Race ran around the circle of newsies, cigar bouncing in his mouth. He stopped when he reached me, "Here ya go," he dropped my phone into my hand, spun around, and ran back to where he previously stood. I heard him strike up an argument...er... discussion... with Albert, trying to bet on who would win the fight. I stared at my phone a minute, wiping some dirt off the miraculously un-cracked screen, then slipped it into my pocket. I had to be more careful, make sure it didn't fall out again.

"HEY!" Everyone stopped mid-motion.

Jack, in the middle of ducking a hit from Oscar while taking a swing at Morris.

Race, nudging Albert while Albert rolled his eyes.

Crutchie, watching me pocket my phone.

Davey and Les, running in on random, looking perky and way too happy for five-something in the morning. They stopped as soon as they saw everyone.

We all turned to face Weasel, mouths falling open. Who knew he could yell that loud? "Everyone quit fighting and DO YOUR JOBS!"

Silence reigned for another moment, then the Delanceys slunked over to the distribution table while the newsies lined up.

"What did we miss?" asked Davey, looking around at the tense crowd. I still felt the undertones coursing through the pavement, the remains of the fight, the fear. I was an empath toward negative emotions only. It stunk.

"Just a usual morning...I think." I answered. Best to brush it off, move on, get back to business. Davey shrugged nonchalantly, joining the line. Crutchie got in behind Les. I followed, but paused when I saw Jack standing perfectly still, staring at something overhead. No, he wasn't standing still; he was trembling.

"Jack?" I walked over, reaching out a hand, trying to sense what was wrong. His features were contorted, his eyes wide, but with tears brimming on the edge. "What's wrong?" I could feel my voice edge with panic. No one was allowed to hurt Jack Kelly; they would answer to me personally.

"It was supposed ta be...he was supposed ta be gone..."

I followed the train of his eyes. My hand flew to my mouth. I read the headline, written chalk above our heads, fresh, not there when we came in.

A second wave of silence hushed the chatting, joking newsboys. I heard the crumple of a newspaper unfolding behind me. I stepped closer to Jack, wanting nothing more than to give him a hug, give them all hugs. I wanted to protect them, but deep down, I knew I was in just as much danger as them. Crutchie approached his other side, and Jack threw an arm around the smaller boy. I watched them, not wanting to think, not wanting to look at the doom scrawled across the chalkboard above us.

Race's voice, normally so bright and clear, read aloud the news none of us wanted to hear.

"Warden Snyder Found Not-Guilty; Refuge to Re-Open Next Week"


	7. Chapter6:TimeFor an Inspirational Speech

**Chapter Six: Time for an Inspirational Speech, or Something Like That **

I sold most of our papes that day.

It wasn't hard of course. Everyone had seen Jack's drawings from during the strike, so the idea that the man responsible for those atrocities would be back shocked people into buying.

_Well, it's shocking enough for them to buy papers, not enough for them to actually do something about it…_

_/_

After the initial moment of shock, Jack recovered quickly; his posture changed into that of the swaggering young man with the world at his feet. His eyes betrayed him. I could still see the haunting fear and sadness glistening like teardrops. I knew he had to be a leader for the other boys, the young ones, but the old ones too, the ones who had seen the inside of the Refuge and knew just how bad it was. Shivering a little, I moved over to Crutchie, replacing Jack as he went to go talk to the others. The smile had melted right away from his face. It hurt. It hurt to know it hurt him. I would go up to Snyder myself and stab him to protect my babies. But no, murder was wrong of course, and I talked big, but I didn't have the means or the guts, or even a real desire, just a dark-ish sense of humor and my mom's redhead temper.

_Besides_, the side of my brain that liked BBC _Sherlock_ a little too much told me, _if I get caught, I'll be arrested, and then my name and possibly other information can get on record. I can't risk that, _I wasn't sure which laws of time governed my situation, but becoming too prominent and recognizable tended to result in devastating paradoxes.

Jack walked from boy to boy, bending down to hug and talk to each one. I debated putting an arm around Crutchie, but my stupid brain stopped me. We had just met after all. But none of the newsies seemed opposed to physical contact. Well, except Les, who was in the phase where he thought he was too big for hugs. The twinkle that earlier and always filled Crutchie's eye was dulled, and I saw a void that should never have to be there. Clearly, he needed the hug. Gently, tentatively, I swung my arm around his shoulders. They tensed, but soon relaxed, and I knew I made the right move.

"Alright," Jack called. He stood in the center of the group of newsies, everyone, including the Delanceys and Wiesel, watching him. He reached up as if to mess with his cap, but then lowered his hand. "I knowse this ain't the headline we wanted, but we'se got a job ta do. Our lives was fine before, 'long as we stayed clear of the Refuge, and we can do it again. Now Buttons?" Buttons, who had been fiddling with his namesakes on his shirt, looked up, "I know you'se took a spot near da place afta' it closed, you'll need ta move. And no one else go near there." He pointed a finger at Buttons, then swept it around to the whole group. Everyone nodded. We all knew what the Refuge reopening meant, "Watch each other's backs, and keep doin' what you're doin'. We'll…we'll be alright."

"We will?" One of the smaller boys asked, I didn't know his name, but he didn't look much bigger than Les. Race, who was standing next to him, grabbed him in a noogie.

"Yeah we will."

At this, some of the boys began to shift. Albert turned to Mush, and before long, I heard the snippets of an argument brewing. Elmer looked up from the paper he had been reading and ran over, though I couldn't tell if he was trying to help break it up joining in. Davey grabbed Les's hand and squeezed it, causing him to jerk away and run over to chat with the other boy near Race. Davey sighed and followed him, rolling his eyes, but I detected the glimmer of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

Jack turned back toward Crutchie and I, his expression now unreadable. I suddenly became aware of my arm, and its placement around Crutchie felt stiff, unnatural or unnecessary. I let it drop.

"Now what is all you'se standing 'round here for?" Jack said, putting his foot up on a crate and rising above the crowd, "Let's get ta work!"

I found myself nodding. In spite of myself, I thought this would be the perfect time for a sweet and uplifting musical number, but sadly, it seemed that whatever strange universe I had tumbled into included the characters, but not the choreography.

The newsies slowly trickled out of the distribution center, spreading out as they passed the gates and raising their papes to the sky. Some of their cries started soft, but soon they were hawking like it was any other day at work. The headline may stink for us, but it was certainly an easy sell. Maybe if I was lucky I could start my savings fund tonight. Still, Jack didn't help much. Sure, he was selling, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it, not after having watched him yesterday. I thought back to how he had comforted the other boys, how he had inspired him. My mind kept circling over the events, trying to piece them together. It was surreal, like a dream. I was in a dream where I was witnessing these musical bonus scenes but without any actual songs. And what in time and space had happened before that? Fighting? Delanceys? Oscar had seen my phone! I had almost forgotten, what with everything else. I guess I could only hope he wouldn't mention it, maybe I should talk to him, apologize to the both of them, explain the importance of not saying anything…well, not now, I had to focus, I had to sell these papers if I wanted to, you know, live and stuff.

After lunch, Jack told me I'd have to sell with someone else that afternoon. "There's somethin' I gotta do…"

I raised my eyebrows, "Are you about to go do something stupid, reckless, or both?"

"Who, me?" he spread his arms, mocking, "Nah!"

I held my ground, crossing my arms, though I had to resist the temptation to smile.

"I'se just gotta drawin' I need ta do, to send over to the _World." _

"Wait, so you did get your own cartoon? Why are you still selling then?"

His brow furrowed, and his casual posture faded into something tenser.

"Turns out I'se just a 'freelance artist,'" he did air-quotes with his fingers, "I does the drawin's, but if the politics editor don't like 'em, he don't take 'em."

"That's dumb." I said.

"I knowse it is, but with any luck, what I've got in my head'll make tomorrow's papes."

I smiled in an attempt at supportiveness, "I'm sure it'll be great."

He didn't return the smile, and my "friend is feeling bad about themselves" alarm went off in my head. "Seriously, if the political doofus boy doesn't like your drawings then he's just an idiot with not enough brains to fill a teaspoon."

Jack chuckled. In an act of wild abandonment, I reached over and patted his shoulder. He looked up, and my hand shot back. Crap crap crap. I really needed to stop doing that. Well, actually I didn't even know which thing I needed to stop doing. I could probably continue physical contact, usually that was a good thing, but should I wish to, I needed to not retract said physical contact as soon as it was acknowledged.

I was a mess. Life was a mess. We made a great pair.

Jack ran off, back to the lodging house, and I was left to catch up with the other newsies. I latched onto Crutchie, he was always nice and I trusted him, and asked if I could sell with him for the afternoon. He agreed. We hit the distribution center, and for the first time since I started, which was only my third time total, I managed to get my papes without incident. I took less than before, because I noticed that most of the boys bought fewer afternoon papers, but I bought just as many as anyone. After this morning, I had a more confidence in my abilities. Maybe I could actually live like this for a while. The newsies made up for the other people, except for when they were making fart jokes. I should have known that a large quantity of boys all living in the same building would result in a surplus of boyish humor, but I hadn't thought of it until last night. It was horrible.

When the sun hid itself behind the buildings of the New York skyline, I sold my last pape. It physically pained me to call papers "papes," but here I was doing it. I would adjust some to the speech of the newsies, but I refused to lose my accent. No amount of time spent in NYC could make it my home. That stayed down south, far in the future.

Crutchie had finished around half an hour ago, but being him, insisted on waiting until I was done before leaving. Of course, he kind of had to, I didn't exactly know my way around the city, and both of us thought it was a bad idea for anyone to be selling on our own for a while, what with the news. Crutchie especially might be in danger, because he had been in the Refuge before, and I would bet Snyder would particularly target his former inmates first. I didn't like to think about that, but my mind kept circling back to it despite my best efforts. We walked back to the lodge in near silence, just the thump of wood and shoes on sidewalk. People hurried past us, shooting the occasional dirty glare or gaze of pity. I smiled at a few of them, but they only frowned back. I sighed. At home, everyone smiled and nodded when you passed. Cliche yes, but true. I had spent my life wanting to escape small towns I felt trapped in, but I never wanted to leave the intimate environment. People really did smile when I passed, they just didn't let me in their inner circles.

The sound of a million people tramping home from their day to day lives echoed off the buildings and the wagon-filled streets. I looked over at my companion, still in awe that he was really here. He kept turning his head from side to side, scanning the crowded streets, careful, oh so careful not to be caught again. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him, or to anyone that that spider was going free.

I panicked for a moment when I realized Crutchie wasn't beside me. I turned and saw he had stopped about a yard behind.

"Hey, You alright?" I asked, going back.

He was quiet for a moment, and his voice came out in almost a whisper, "I just remembered why I don' like goin' this way."

"Why?" I said, oblivious.

He pointed up at a building ahead. I followed his hand. The bronze-looking letters were faded until they blended with the metal sign behind them, but I could still make out the words that showed the darkened building's purpose. The Refuge, evidently it haunted our steps in addition to our thoughts.

"We can go around a different way." I suggested, starting to walk back the way we came.

Crutchie set his jaw, his brow lowered. "Nah." He waved off the suggestion. "I has ta do it sometime."

I nodded, and rejoined him in our walk home.

"Hey," I said, grinning a little, "If anyone tries to attack us, I'll soak'em for you." I punched my fist into my hand and Crutchie laughed.

"Not if I soak'em first," he made a whacking gesture with his crutch. I giggled, giddy still with his adorableness.

We continued past the Refuge, not giving it a second glance. After we passed it, I turned to Crutchie again, "So what were you saying about the fake noodle this morning?"


	8. Chapter Seven: Determinate

**Chapter Seven: "Determinate" **

_A/N: The song featured in this chapter is "Determinate" from the Disney Channel Original Movie: __Lemonade Mouth. _

The lodge was quieter tonight than it had been the night before. Race and a couple other boys played cards in the corner. Race's feet rested on the table, but the other two sat straight, like teenage soldiers. Most of the boys were slumped across chairs or against walls, listless. Finch sat cross-legged on the floor, rubbing some sort of spot on his slingshot. Romeo hung upside down off the back of an armchair. Few people talked, and those who did, did so in whispers. I hadn't seen Davey and Les since the distribution center this afternoon. Last night they stayed late to hang out with everyone; tonight, they went home. The tension of the news of Snyder and the Refuge dangled in the air like a chandelier about to drop and kill someone.

I huffed as I collapsed onto a sofa next to Elmer. The legs of the seat screamed at the extra weight. Everyone's stress was starting to get to me. I could feel the levels rising, and I tried to get rid of the excess fearful energy. I tapped my fingers, then my toes, my mind racing with little coherent thought. I couldn't let this keep happening. I was going to overflow. I had to do something.

"Hey guys, why don't we do something?" I said. I almost face palmed myself again. Why was I like this?

"In case ya haven't noticed" said Albert from the card table, "we'se already doin' somethin'"

Well excuse you. I rolled over on the couch, my legs swinging dangerously close to Elmer's face, which caused him to jump off. "Well I can see that dearie, I meant something…" I trailed off, not sure where to go next, "not…that…."

"We could talk about our feelings," someone said. Ok. That didn't sound like something someone from this century would say. I rolled until I was upside down facing the rest of the open room, "My feelings for you that is…" Ah, it was Romeo. That explained it. I considered doing some sort of epic flip off the couch, but due to my extreme lack of coordination, I rolled off and fell to the floor instead. I whipped my head up, because if I couldn't epically get off the couch I could at least get a decent hair flip afterword.

"Romeo, honey, I think you try too hard. Also, I'm kinda too old for you," I said. He was one of the younger newsies, which was probably how he got away with those ridiculous pick-up lines.

"I know, but I gotta practice somewhere." This warranted a laugh from the boys and a most unladylike snort from me.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to think of something that would lift people's spirits. Elmer returned to the couch, side-eyeing me as though concerned that I would mess him up again.

"You'se could sing a song…" Crutchie suggested. He sat in a chair over by a long, rickety wooden table, his leg propped up on a crate that was used as a stool.

"Wait what?"

"Hey yeah, like that one you'se sang this mornin'" Jojo said from the card table.

"If you'se can call that singin'" remarked Albert. Race smacked him. I would have laughed, but I was too busy going red at the thought of singing and at the embarrassment of my escapades that morning.

"I don't know guys…" I said, I stood up, thinking about heading upstairs to bed.

"Please?" someone said behind me. I think it was Jojo. I looked around the room to find all eyes once again on me. Except for Albert, he was snaking an arm around Race's head toward his cigar while he was distracted.

"Um…." I bounced a little from foot to foot as I tried to think of something to sing. Something inspirational. Something that would lift people's spirits, maybe. I didn't like this pressure.

_Just go for it, you know lots of inspirational songs. You've got this…_

"Alright, I'll try something, but keep in mind its better with the music."

I took a breath, ready to begin when…

"Hold it!" Race smacked Albert's arm away. Albert nearly smacked him back, but Race hopped up from the table in the corner, spilling cards and nicked poker chips all over the floor. He ran over and offered his arm. "If you'se gonna perform, you'se got ta do it in style." I raised my eyebrows, but lightly placed my hand on his proffered arm. Race escorted to me over to the table, and Crutchie swung his leg down off the crate, giving me a clear path to step up.

I stood on top of the table, feeling more conspicuous than I had even standing in front of the Brooklyn boys in my 21st century clothes. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, my ears burned under the watch of all of the newsies. I must have looked like Heat Miser with my ears so red. Stupid embarrassment.

"Ladies, Gentlemen…_Albert." _Race stuck his tongue out at his friend, who replied with a thumb up. "May I pre-sent for ya listenin' pleasure, Miss…Victoria!"

I nodded my head at him, sinking into an imaginary curtsy.

"Ok y'all, this is a song from a 21st century moving picture. Just keep in mind that the original has music." I clasped my hands together in front of me, imagining the start of a piano in my mind.

"Tryin' hard to fight these tears. I'm crazy worried. Messin' with my head this fear, I'm so sorry. You know you gotta get it out, I can't take it. That's what bein' friends about…"

I smiled a little as I paused. I jumped, ducking my head as I stomped down onto the table. My hair whipped back as I straightened and launched into the next part of the verse.

I tried not to watch the boys as I was singing; I knew I would grow self-conscious, but I wound up eyeing them anyway. I could tell some of them were bored, but for the most part, all eyes were fixed on me. I tapped my foot to the beat of the song as I hit the chorus, knowing the effect couldn't be the same without the music, but that I could at least have something going.

Race's jaw dropped when I hit the short rapping section. I'd had it memorized since I was thirteen. I winked at him.

I spun around as I launched into the final chorus, "Gotta turn the world into your dance floor! Determinate, determinate. Push until you can't and then demand more! Determinate, determina-ate! You and me together we can make it better. Gotta turn the world into your dancefloor! Determinate, determinaaaaaate," I swooped into a bow, looking up as I did so to gauge the newsies' reactions. Unlike _some_ people, I could not perform flips and splits and who knows what else while singing, so I knew it wasn't _that_ exciting.

The boys were silent for a moment, but soon Crutchie started clapping, followed by a few others, punctuated by cheers and a few whistles, from the rest of the boys. Race leapt onto the table in a single bound and grabbed my hand, raising it into the air and then down for another bow. I laughed, surprised at my own success. They had really liked it!

I whirled around, jubilant. I noticed Jack leaning against the stairs, smirking. He applauded a little when he saw me watching, then turned to go up the stairs. I saw his shoulders slump as he did so. Oh dear, that set off the "friend upset" alert again. After today, I couldn't blame him. I jumped off the table, landing in a crouch because I had mastered the superhero landing and wouldn't let it go to waste.

"Where ya goin?"

"Yeah, how'bout anotha?"

"Encore!"

"What's that?"

"Them things on boats that keeps 'em from floatin' away."

"That's an anchor ya nitwit!"

I raised my hands in an attempt to quiet the jabber, but it did little good, I lacked Spot's talent for crowd-silencing.

"I think I'm ready for bed, guys…" I said, though I wasn't sure how many people heard me, "HEY!" A hush blanketed the room, "I said, I was going to bed," Cue groans. "…but maybe tomorrow night I'll tell you a story…from the future!"

"Really?" said Mike, sitting cross-legged on the floor, actually, it could have been Ike, I would work out who was who eventually, but not tonight.

"Yep! It'll have spaceships and laser guns and mystical energy fields and…" I realized that the boys had succeeded in distracting me, when I needed to get upstairs and check on Jack, "…and I gotta go, bye!" I made for the stairs, waving behind me as a new babble of questions rose in a wave of voices.

"What's a laser?"

"What's a spaceship?"

"What's an encore?"

/

Fire escapes are scary.

Actually, once I reached the escape itself, my heartbeat returned to relatively normal levels, but climbing out the window nearly killed me. I had a new scrape on my leg to join the scrapes on my knees before I even reached the ladder. I creeped up the ladder, which creaked under my weight no matter how light I made my step. My muscles tensed, at least, the ones that weren't trembling uncontrollably, as I stepped completely onto the ladder.

I remembered to breath when I reached the top, but soon forgot again when my eyes took in the sights.

The rooftop fire balcony afforded a dramatic view of the street below, just high enough up that the people still walking the streets seemed small and distant, but still low enough that the view didn't go far before taller buildings rose around and blocked any skyline. The sun had set only an hour ago, and the sky had not yet gone dark. The last feeble fall lights peeking from around the towers silhouetted a figure who stood at the rail, a cap bunched up in his hand like he had just finished the high note at the end of an emotional song about his desire to escape from the life he felt trapped in.

"Jack?"

He stiffened at the sound of my voice. How did he not hear me coming before?

"How'd you get up here?"

"Intuition?" I took a step forward, trying not to think about the tiny holes in the grating beneath my feet, "You looked upset, so I came...er...I followed y... no...I wanted to check on you so I..." I sighed. Curse my inability to say words.

I saw two mattress pads rolled up near Jack's feet, two pillows propped against the side of the rail, blankets wadded up on top. His and Crutchie's beds. A cool breeze blew by and I shivered; I wondered how long the two of them would sleep out here, winter coming and all.

"I'm fine." Jack turned so he was lounging against the railing. I winced a little, rickety looking railings at potentially lethal heights did not look like good places to lounge. Still, irrelevant, if he wanted to accidentally fall to his death I wouldn't have the upper body strength to stop him, and he'd probably leaned against that railing a million times.

"Sure you are. I know we met yesterday, but I know what you look like when you're upset."

He opened his mouth to say something, but I kept going.

"And you know what? It's ok that you're upset. You have a lot of things to be mad about! Just when everything seems to be going right, you find the place where you belong, you don't have to run anymore, and then boom!" I smacked the railing with my hand, sending a jolt through the whole 'penthouse.' "Everything falls to pieces and the world's back to its filth and lies and it's stupid and not fair and awful stinkin' horrible…" I stopped, letting the rest of my breath out in a huff. This wasn't helping. I couldn't let my own problems get to me now; I needed to help Jack.

"I kinda worked that out on my own," he said. He swung his leg, scraping it against the grating in a way both casual and frustrated. His foot caught a stub of charcoal that lay there and sent it soaring out over the street. I winced when we heard a yelp of pain below us. Jack ducked down.

"Sorry!" I called over the railing. A stream of cursing shot back up, "Is that really necessary dearie? We could just drop another one!" I responded; I looked sideways at Jack, "City people are mean. Present company excepted."

"Couldn't tell." He straightened back up, smirking, and though some light was back in his eyes, something still wasn't right.

I leaned back against the railing, the one on the side with the rooftop behind me so t I wouldn't fall to my death if it broke. I didn't know what I could say to make this better. I wanted to, I wanted to help, but I didn't know how to get across to him. Characters in books were so much better about this stuff, they always knew how to interact and connect emotionally, and I tried so hard, but something didn't click. Now we had this real problem, and I knew exactly what he was feeling because I had seen him, in the show, had watched it over and over, and not only that, I had felt many of the same things myself.

"How 'bout you?"

"Hmmm?" I said, jerking out of my thoughts.

"Ya don't seem too fine yourself." He moved closer.

I threw up my hands, stepping away. "I'm alright. Well as I can be at least. Just wishing I was better at this sort of thing, and that none of this had happened, but 'so do all who live to see such times but that is not for them to decide, all you have to decide is what to do with the time given to you.'"

I leaned against the balcony, gazing out at the darkening skyline. Jack came up behind me.

"Ya seem ta handle yaself alright to me."

"Ha!" I scoffed.

"Remind me neva' ta give you a compliment."

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, urgh!" I whirled around, frustrated still at my lack of competence. "I came up here to help _you. _Not to just rant about my problems…. which is exactly what I'm doing right now…" I sighed, "But you know what? I know that we can do this, and even if we can't, we've got each other. All of us, all those boys down there. I've only seen a bond like that among my own friends back home," my voice caught, "and if you have that… you can get through anything."

And now I was crying. This was not how this was supposed to go. I hurriedly tried to wipe the tears away, tried to calm my breathing and force myself to stop.

"Hey, _hey…_" Jack crossed the balcony to my side. His arms closed around me, and this time I didn't flinch at the physical contact, I sank into it. The fabric of his vest brushed my cheek, no doubt adding to the soot that stained it already, the roughness somehow comforting, something solid to focus on as the world spun around us.

"Why does everything decide to go wrong right when you thought it was going right?" I said, more to myself than to him.

"I dunno. But I ain't gonna let it beat us. You're one a us now, and you'se right about dat otha stuff too."

"Whaddyou mean?" I pulled away, sniffling a little.

"We gots each other's backs. We don't know nuthin' bout da future, but we can hold on ta each otha'. Even if it's all we got. We can figure dis out."

"And if we can't?"

"'den we'll go…all of us…cuz I ain't lettin' that Spider get away with anythin' eva' again." His teeth clenched as he spoke, an invisible fire igniting inside him.

"You know, you don't have to protect them all by yourself."

"An' whose gonna do it for me?"

I almost said, me, but I realized how ridiculous that would sound. I bit my lip.

"Just…make sure you're taking care of yourself too…"

I jumped when I heard a clanging noise on the ladder. Crutchie's head popped up over the edge, and Jack jumped clear to the far end of the balcony from where he had stood, close to me.

"Is I interrupting something?" Crutchie raised his eyebrows at Jack.

"We was…" Jack struggled to find words.

"I was just going." I said. Crutchie swung his legs over the edge, smirking like he thought he knew something. Jack glared. Crutchie wiggled his eyebrows and grinned all the more.

"Well, I'll let you two get on with your facial expression conversation. Goodnight boys." I inched myself down onto the ladder.

"Goodnight Vicky!" Crutchie said. I let go of the railing to wave, grabbing it again as my stomach lurched with fear of falling.

"'Night Vicky." Jack said softly.

/

A few of the boys already lay on their bunks when I got back in, but none of them appeared to be asleep. Instead, they joked and talked, leaning against the bunks or flipping off the top, climbing around across the tops, more like a troupe of monkeys than teenage boys, taking off excess clothing for the night. I eyed my closet with disdain. Although I appreciated the privacy, it was stuff and cramped. I couldn't think in there, I couldn't do anything but sleep, and that only just. My eyes fell on the top bunk nearest my closet. It was missing its mattress, as that was the one I had stuffed inside, but I noticed something else. Rafters spanned the length of the ceiling, and two of them were located right over the bunk, and I spied a tiny crack of space between rafter and ceiling, probably not the best in architectural soundness, but it might be perfect for what I needed.

I pulled my mattress out from the closet and shoved it up into the bunk. Grabbing the two thinnest but not moth-eaten blankets I could find, I climbed onto the bed. Carefully, I tucked the blankets into the rafters, curtaining my bed off from the rest of the room. I leaned back on my knees, hands on my hips, to admire my work. It wasn't perfect, but it was still mostly private, and better than the closet. I could always dress in the bathroom if needed, and if it got cold and the boys needed the blankets, I could always try the closet again. No, it wasn't perfect, but we had to keep going with what we had, and if we had nothing, well, we could make something up.


	9. Chapter Eight: Yes the Rain is Symbolism

**Chapter Eight: Yes, the Rain is Symbolism **

"Hey Albert!" I skipped to catch up with him, "Look what I got!" I showed him my prize. Race put his cigar in his pocket while he drank his coffee, and I used my "expert ninja skills" to sneak up behind and snatch it, replacing it with a rolled-up scrap of paper. How did I pull it off? No clue; I guess two weeks on the streets of New York taught me some important skills…like pick-pocketing! I placed my hand jauntily on my hip. Albert raised his eyebrows until they nearly disappeared under his backwards cap.

"He's gonna soak ya…"

"Nah!"

"HEY!"

I laughed when I saw Race, crumpled paper in his hand, staring at me open-mouthed. I waved the cigar at him.

"You know these things give you lung cancer, I should really just toss it…" I said, pulling my arm back to throw. Race set his jaw and charged. I ran on ahead, through the newly opened gate, and ducked behind Davey, gripping his shoulders, "Oh please help sir!" I said, my voice warbling in fake fright, "that awful boy is chasing me and I'm scared!"

Race caught up and I hid further behind an exasperated Davey, who shrugged his shoulders until I let go. "You shouldn't antagonize him," he said.  
"And ya shouldn' steal my stuff neither!" added Race.

"Actually, if we're friends, and I think we are, then we need to…" I climbed onto the rim of one of the wagons to dodge Race's hand, "…protect…each other…" I held my hand with the cigar aloft, high as I could reach, "…from dangerous…substance…aaaaghh!"

Race snatched the cigar, sending me tumbling back into the piles of newspaper nestled in the wagon. While Race returned his cigar to its rightful place in his mouth, Davey climbed up to offer me a hand.

"Thanks," I said, brushing off my hopelessly dusty pants.

"I wouldn't hafta' do that if you wouldn't act like a crazy person."

"Hey, it's just a little fun. Believe it or not I was the goodie two-shoes back home."

Davey's eyebrows both rose and furrowed, his head slightly tilted, "I don't."

"Well bleh." I stuck my tongue out, then smirked. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Poor thing, I'd probably act the same way in his shoes.

I shrugged, then whirled around to join the buying line., "Your loss!" I looked back just in time to catch Davey smiling. I knew he loved me. It may be conceited of me to say, but they all did.

I had been among the newsies for two weeks now, and the Refuge re-opened last week. Although all my darlings were safe so far, rumors had been racing through the streets, kids disappearing, a few friends of the boys. They had warned me that it would get bad, but Crutchie had told me in whisper that he had never heard so many "arrests" at once. I told him my suspicions. Snyder would be starting back with no kids, meaning little money. He would be extra diligent in his duties, trying to get his quotas back up to where the same levels as before the strike.

Still, if we tread carefully we'll be fine… right?

I started selling by myself officially, making just as much as any of the other newsies. Of course, that wasn't much, but I managed to get food and a place to sleep, so I let that be good enough for now.

Jack was distant. Crutchie told me he stayed up late drawing, scratching at slivers of paper for hours on end. He arrived late the past three mornings, too late to get any breakfast from the nuns, barely in time to get his papes. Though the boys joked about it, I think they realized soon that something was eating at him.

I jumped when I felt someone's hand dip into my front pocket. I spotted the retreating back of the thief and stomped my foot, "RacETRACK HIGGINS YOU GIVE ME THAT BACK!"

"Make me!"

I raised my eyebrows. Did he seriously think I would chase him all around the square? We both knew he was faster. I had to think about this logically…aaaaand I was already running behind him, feet pounding on stone, my bag slapping against my thigh. Oh well.

Race climbed the entrance gate, sticking my phone in his own pocket to do so. He reached the top and pulled it out, waving it high in the air.

"You know that's not supposed to be seen…urgh!" Clearly someone didn't understand the concept of discretion. I guess I expected too much of Race. Several of the boys laughed and cheered him on behind me. I guess I expected too much of them as well. I wanted to glare at them, but too much of my energy focused on my phone at its precarious position high above the street. I ran for the gate, my eyes fixed in the air, when….

Wham!

I stumbled backward, nearly falling. Just when I almost reached the gate, not looking where I was going, I crashed into Jack.

"Oh, my time and space I am so sorry are you ok? Did I hurt you? Time and space…" I tried to reach over and brush him off, despite not getting any dirt on him, but he turned away, head down against the glare of the cloudy day.

"Jus'…watch where your goin'! … you'll run inta' trouble," he almost yelled the first part, but his voice grew quiet at the end.

"Somebody's grumpy this morning." I muttered. I snapped my fingers immediately after, I shouldn't have said that. He had a rough enough time without my snark.

Jack turned to squint up at the gate, and I saw shadows of blue under his eyes made only more obvious by complimenting his shirt, "Racer get down from there, you could bust ya head open!"

"Yes motha'." Race said, climbing down from his perch. Jack ignored him and got in line, his step heavier than usual. I glared at Race when he reached the bottom, hand out with my palm up.

"Ahem."

Race rolled his eyes, his whole head following them around, and dropped the phone into my hand, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth. I pocketed the device, wishing yet again that I had a better way to care for it. Although I hadn't used it, the battery was nearly dead. It had held on for longer than I had even thought possible. Figures, I only got long lasting battery after I no longer needed it.

I bought my papes in a rush, avoiding eye contact with the Delanceys. They hadn't tried anything else, but they'd been extra cocky recently, smirking like they knew something we didn't. Personally, I found it amazing that they knew anything at all. Knowledge had a tendency to require brain capacity. I heard Morris chuckle at something Oscar said as I passed, but resolved to ignore them. I skipped away, probably earning a few more snickers. Oh well. Guess I was just too fabulous for the likes of them.

I wanted to catch up to Crutchie, hoping to sell near him today. Despite my growing selling talent, I did not yet know my way around the city. I also liked selling with Crutchie; he never failed to make me smile. Even when he wasn't paying attention, when he was selling to some well-dressed young woman stopped by that beautiful smile. This may be a bad idea; I couldn't focus on hawking headlines if I was squealing over my fellow newsie. Bleh.

"S'gonna rain ta'day," he said as we walked to his usual spot. He walked slower than usual, his motions stiffer.

I glanced briefly at the not-at-all ominous clouds overhead, "Greeaaaaat."

His prediction came true not long after lunch. I had nothing to keep out the downpour, but soon Crutchie came over, taking off his vest so I could drape it over my head and shoulders. This boy was too much, honestly. Few people were willing to stop in the rain to buy a newspaper that would surely get soaked (as in wet, not beaten up) before they could read it, and I despaired a little when I thought of my pitiful savings being depleted by tonight's meal and board. Eventually, Crutchie and I decided to head back toward the distribution center, where our papers could be bought back.

"Did you hear that?"

I stopped near an intersection of two streets. Carts and carriages, people with umbrellas and without, all bustled past, but over the clopping and rattling and stepping rose a cry. The voice of a young boy. A familiar voice. My heart clenched. "Is that...?"

Crutchie didn't answer, he was already making his way toward the sound as fast as he could. I winced when his crutch slipped a little on the wet road, but he didn't seem to care. I hurried after him.

"Lemme' go! Please sir, I didn' do nothin'"

"This ur-chin tried 'ta jump us offica'"

We rounded a corner onto a narrow street, empty except for a few people standing about halfway down. Oscar and Morris Delancey, with expressions of placid fear barely masking their smug posture, A police officer, club in one hand, and his other hand gripping…Romeo.

Crutchie flinched beside me, stopping. I kept going, marching toward the group. He tried to put his hand on my shoulder, but I shook him off.

"Well boy, perhaps a little time in the Refuge will teach you a lesson."

My heart shattered at the look of fear on Romeo's face. Oscar and Morris fist bumped behind him.

"Is there a problem here officer?" I said, trying my best to sound calm, polite, and like a boy all at the same time.

"Nothing that concerns you," the man barely gave me a second glance, so focused he was on getting his handcuffs out. He was tall, broad, and overweight, even from beneath his hat I could see his balding head.

"Well considering that's my friend you're arresting there, I'd say it definitely concerns me."

Romeo whimpered as the cuffs closed around his wrists. The officer turned to glare at me, his eyes scanned my body, and I shifted, wishing I looked more like the boy I was dressed as. He stuffed his baton down into his belt, and a small wave of relief splashed against my beach of fear. I decided to try my luck "Please, sir,"

"Vick…" Crutchie said behind me warningly, I ignored him.

"I know this boy, he wouldn't hurt a fly! Why would he try to attack two people bigger and stronger than himself? There must be a misunderstanding!"

"I'd watch your mouth if I was you…" he glanced down again and I gulped, "…boy…. else you'll find yourself in the same position."

I stood my ground, planting my feet and bending my knees slightly, blocking his path.

He shoved me aside. Did my stance mean nothing? Romeo struggled in the man's grasp as he was drug toward the end of the street, where a carriage waited, horse stomping and snorting in the rain. I saw a bruise blooming on the boy's cheek, and snapped.

"HEY!"

"Vicky no!"

I ran up behind the policeman, everything I ever knew about respecting the law flying out of my head. "You can't do this! He's just a kid! You big…"

"I said SHUT UP"

I didn't see the backhand coming. The officer's hand slammed into the side of my face before I could block, sending me spiraling into the stone wall of the building beside me. My vision blacked for a second, then came back blurred and fuzzy. I reached up to feel my cheek where he hit, wincing.

"Ya know Morris, I'm thinkin' these two might need a lesson in respectin' authority."

I looked up frantically, but my head spun and I slumped back against the wall. The policeman and Romeo were gone, but the Delanceys remained. I was not equipped for a fight right now; my mind couldn't stop drifting back to Romeo's wide eyes, that whimpering sound, the clink of the handcuffs…

"You'se guys stay back. I'se warnin' you," Crutchie's voice shook as he spoke, but my own muddled mind couldn't decipher whether he shook from fear or anger. I blinked several times, trying to clear my brain, trying to get back on track. Crutchie planted himself in front of the Delanceys, daring them to cross him. Their low laughter bounced off the walls of the buildings. The rain increased, and a rumble of thunder rolled across the sky above.

"I'd back off now unless ya want ta go the same way as your friend," Morris said.

"But then where's the fun for us?" Oscar surged forward, but Crutchie dodged away, side-swiping with his crutch so Oscar tripped and flew straight to my feet. I side-stepped, ignoring my throbbing face and dizzy head as instinct kicked in. Morris grabbed Crutchie by his shirt. His crutch clattered to the ground as he was lifted till his feet dangled. He slammed him against the wall.

"Crutchie!"

I charged.

"Not so fast,"

Oscar, recovered from his fall, grabbed me from behind. I tried to kick, but I couldn't seem to find a target. His forearm wrapped around my throat. I tried to turn my head, to stop his ability to choke me, but his grip tightened and I was trapped. I clawed at his arm. I couldn't give up. I had breath in me yet, I had to keep going. I had to. His free fist hit my stomach and the air left me.

Morris pinned Crutchie on the wall with one hand, holding him at his eye level. Thunder boomed overhead, closer now. The rain blurred my vision. I fought to keep my eyes open against the drops pelting them.

Morris's fist connected with Crutchie's stomach. Once. Twice. Another, this time to his face.

I thrashed in Oscar's grip, but only lost my footing on the slick ground. My remaining papes spilled out onto the puddle-filled ground. Morris ripped Crutchie's bag off his shoulder and scattered his as well, ruining them and any chance we had of getting our money back. He kept hitting him, alternating targets. My energy started to leave me, hopelessness falling like the rain. We wouldn't make it out of this. They'd have us arrested too, or just beat us senseless right here.

My eyes closed.

Another hit in the stomach.

I gasped for air.

Only more pain.

Don't…give…up….

Over my shoulder, I felt Oscar nod. I could breathe again! I heard something thump to the ground. Crutchie. I forced my eyes open enough to see him. The boy covered his face when he hit the ground, curling up, the fight out of both of us. Oscar loosened his grip. I swayed a little, trying to gain balance on my own, but he shoved me, hard, into the wall. The other side of my face hit this time, along with my left arm, and I slid down next to Crutchie.

"Watch ya backs f'om now on…"

"Yeah, or you'll be next…"

I didn't look up. I didn't move until I no longer heard the sound of their footsteps tromping through mud.

Crutchie groaned. A flash of lightning lit the street now turned dark by the storm.

My head throbbed, and my neck, and my stomach, but I ignored them, "Crutchie, hey, Crutchie? Are you alright?"

"I'se fine." He said, shifting into a sitting position. "I'se been through worse," he smiled, but his lip bled, "Is you'se ok?"

"I-I think so." I tried to stand up, but a searing pain burst through my head and I fell against the wall. "Y-yeah, just a bit shaken up. I'll be, I'll be fine. Yeah. Nothing I can't handle, I've been hit in the face before, and the…and the head. Yeah." I tried to smile back, but my lips barely moved before my cheeks screamed at them.

Crutchie reached over to where his crutch lay abandoned, crawling a little to reach it. It wobbled when he stood. I reached out a hand in case he fell, but he didn't. My hair dripped raindrops, my skin clammy from sweat and water. I took baby steps, inching over to Crutchie, wishing my head would clear, wishing I was home, home in my warm bed with blankets piled into a cocoon of cloudy-fluffiness, consuming me, wishing I was anywhere but here.

Together, we made our way to the end of the street. My eyes half-closed, my body turned on auto-pilot. I leaned on Crutchie, and he leaned on me. We huddled against the storm around us, but could do nothing for the storm inside. We could do nothing for the storm yet to come.


	10. Chapter Nine: I Have a Brilliant Idea

**Chapter Nine: I Have a Brilliant Idea (If I Do Say So Myself)**

I couldn't sleep. I thought my headache would fade when I lay down, but lumpy bandages prevented me from getting comfy. Everything ached. Some part of my face or head complained no matter which way I rolled. My mind, though foggy with weariness and swimming waves of pain, refused to stop whirling with the events of the day.

_We have to do something. But what? _

/

The rain lessened as Crutchie and I reached the lodging house. The sun peeked out below the clouds as it set, but try as I might, I couldn't find a rainbow in the sky. Of course, any time I tried to look up, a wave of dizziness nearly sent me to the ground.

A part of me knew we were lucky. We could have been hit a lot worse, or be in the Refuge by now.

But the rest of me wondered, if I couldn't handle a little fight like this, how would I be able to survive here? I thought I could take care of myself, and now I didn't know what to think.

Buttons kept watch outside the lodging house when we turned onto the street. His eyes widened when he saw us and his mouth dropped open. He ran inside, and soon Jack came bursting out the door, meeting us halfway down the sidewalk. He went straight for Crutchie, panting a little.

"What happened ta you'se?" Jack looked Crutchie over, checking him for injuries and noting them. Wanting to stay out of the way, but still incredibly dizzy, I slumped against the wall of whatever building we stood next to, fighting to keep my eyes open and be aware of the goings on around me, "I…we was worried sick."

"We're, we're fine," I said, eyes half closed. It hurt to talk, and my voice came out hoarse, but I couldn't seem to stop once I started, "we're fine. Just had a run in with…the Delanceys, that's all. The sun's being stupid, there should be a rainbow, why isn't there a stinkin' rainbow? I hate the wet, I miss my towels, do we have any nice, fluffy, towels? Of course we don't, cuz we're poor! Hey guys? I think I'm in shock. Do I sound like I'm in shock? I think I'm in shock…can someone get me a blanket?" I laughed a little to myself, because _Sherlock _reference, but that hurt so I stopped.

"You're bleedin'" Jack said, looking away from Crutchie, who was now leaning more heavily on Jack than his crutch.

"Am I?" I reached up and found a scrape on my temple, and a lump on my forehead that seemed to flare in pain when my hand so much as hovered near it, "Cool, that's good, wait, no its not, I need to stop talking."

"What you needs is ta lie down." Jack said.

"You right. Lemme just…" I straightened, and tried to take a step toward the lodging house. My legs buckled beneath me.

"Woah!" Jack caught me before I hit the ground. A part of my brain I tried to ignore informed me that this was the second time I had found myself in this position. I tried to get up, but well, that apparently wasn't happening, everything tilted sideways. Spots flashed in front of my eyes, the weird, fuzzy, colored kind, not the Brooklyn kind.

"I can make it. I can …ow …I'll be fine …I…"

"You ain't fine. I'se takin' you inside. Crutchie can you'se make it alright?"

"Yeah Jack. I'se made it this far."

"Now I needs you ta hold still."

"Jack wait…I can make it…Crutchie got hurt way worse….eeep!...ok…ok…"

Jack, ignoring any feeble protestations, scooped me up, which really didn't help my dizziness, and started carrying me inside.

"Mush stop peekin' out the door and tell da guys ta move off da sofas!"

My brain had ceased function. I closed my eyes, trying to blot out the pain that was my face and head. I tried to focus on something else, the texture of Jack's vest, the fact that he carried me into the main room of the lodging house. The actual, somehow impossibly existing Jack Kelly, had me in his arms right now….and the actual, somehow impossibly existing Crutchie was hurt…and the actual, somehow impossibly existing Romeo…

I felt myself lowering, and the poking springs of the couch felt far less comfortable than the arms that held me a few seconds before. I opened my eyes, a small groan escaped me in spite of myself.

"Jack, there's somethin' else…" Crutchie said.

Jack ignored him, "Specs, whaddya think?"

"Get some wet rags and some dry ones for bandages. One of 'em must've had some brass knuckles," Specs shook his head and Jack cursed.

"Jack,"

"I'll kill 'em"

"_Jack." _Crutchie's voice grew more insistent.

Something cold and wet fell across my face. I was sick of cold and wet. I hissed. Specs continued to dab at various parts of my face, "can we get some blankets? They'll catch their death with all this wet."

See, you've heard of Davey the mom friend, but get ready for Specs the mom friend. Meh, who was I kidding, Davey was still the ultimate mom friend.

"Jack. We'se not 'da problem," I would have thought Jack would pay more attention to his friend/best friend/brother.

Specs stopped dabbing at my head, and I was able to turn a little until I could see Crutchie, lying in a similar position to me, but in a chair, with another chair propped up for his feet. Jack paced around him at a rate that made my head resume its spinning. Yep. Ha-ha. Someone came up with their arms full of blankets, and plopped them unceremoniously at my feet. Specs gave a heavy sigh. He was turning into Bones from _Star Trek, _I could feel it. He spread one of the blankets over me, while Jack took another and wrapped it around Crutchie's shoulders.

"They…they got Romeo…." The activity around us ceased. Specs paused in the middle of tearing some cloth for bandages, Jack with his arms still on Crutchie's shoulders.

"Whaddya mean they got Romeo?"

"When we'se got there, this bull was dere, and da Delanceys told him Romeo'd been soakin' 'em."

"Nah way he'd do that," Jack dropped his hands.

"That's what I said," I gasped when I sat up. Specs had to wrap some cloth around my head, and while I knew that was good for the bleeding parts, it didn't feel good in general. My side hurt too, from where Oscar had hit me, and I suspected a bruise was on its way. My left arm was scraped from where I tried to stop myself from hitting the building. Crutchie had several bruises blooming on his face, and I was sure there would be more around his stomach and chest, but I couldn't know for sure.

"…and then Vicky tries ta stop the bull, but he…"

"smacked me good in the face…and that's…"

"Dat's when da Delanceys decided ta teach us to 'respect authority'" Crutchie made air quotes, scowling.

"But they got Romeo sent to the Refuge…" I wanted to cry, but no tears fell around my swollen cheeks. I must have looked like a mess. Stupid walls.

"I think that's why they'se been lookin' so highfallutin every mornin' Jack. They'se been baitin' guys inta' fightin' 'em, and then they has the bulls 'dere ta..." he trailed off. I was overcome with the urge to go over and give him a hug. I tried to get up, but my whole head screamed at me. I fell back onto the sofa with a whimper.

"What are we gonna do?" I hadn't noticed Davey and Les were here until Les spoke up. His desperate tone made me want to run and hug him too, but I learned my lesson and stayed on the couch.

"I dunno kid." Jack said. The other boys were quiet as Specs finished his ministrations. Davey pulled Les into a hug, and though the younger brother usually resisted these forms of affection, he took this one, clinging to his brother like a rock in an ocean of uncertainty.

The boys helped me up to my bed that night, after I spent most of the evening dozing in and out on the sofa. Crutchie had been mostly ok. Don't get me wrong, he was probably beaten worse than I was, but he wasn't choked for one thing, and for another, though I hated to think about it, he was used to stuff like this. The Delanceys always picked on him more, and, well, he had been in the Refuge. I suspected that he was putting a brave face on. He was such a light to all of the newsies, he couldn't afford to go dark. Still, sometimes we needed to go dark to keep shining later.

I lay there, tossing and turning in the dark, wishing desperately for some Tylenol or Motrin for my head, worrying about all of these boys, especially Romeo. He was too young, too pure. His cheesy pick-up lines did him no good in there. He'd get hurt for even trying. I didn't want to think about him hurt, my mind kept returning to the same thoughts. An endless cycle, the click of the handcuffs, hitting the wall, that feeling of hopelessness as I couldn't breathe, watching Crutchie get hit, so much more real than in the show. What were we going to do?

Jojo had the bunk below me, and as I lay there, longing for the release of sleep, he started to snore. I bunched my limp pillow around my ears, groaning. Not only could I not sleep, but his snores guaranteed I never would. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why.

The idea hit me. It smacked me in the face like Race's pillow had a few days ago when I didn't wake up fast enough.

_We can't sit around helpless, we have to try something or the boys will go mad… and I might join them._

Electric energy shot through my system, charging me like I had just been plugged in. We could do this. We could do this. I had to tell Jack. Wait. It was the middle of the night. But no, it couldn't wait for morning.

Ugh. I had to get up.

Getting to the roof was a challenge, but I managed to almost die only twice. When I finally scrambled into the "penthouse", I sat there for a moment, head to the ground, wishing I could make the ache stop, wishing the dizziness would leave, the fear, the feeling like I was out of breath though I had been able to breathe normally for hours. Steeling myself, I sat up and looked around.

Crutchie slept, curled up save for his leg, in the corner to my right. On the other side, Jack sat crouched with his back to me. I heard the scribble of charcoal on paper. His focus concentrated so completely in his drawing, he hadn't noticed me come up.

"_Jack…" _I whispered, not wanting to wake Crutchie, "_hey Jack," _no response, "Jack, Jackie boy, Jumpin' Jack Flash, Captain Jack, c'mon man seriously just turn around…no? Fine. Ignore me. Whatever…just had a great idea and all that…"

As I mumbled, more to myself than to him, I crept toward him, wondering how focused he could possibly be in his drawing, and in his own thoughts. A breeze blew by and I shivered, the days had grown colder as September ended, far faster than they ever did down at home. The storm today had probably been a cold front; we wouldn't have another warm night this year. I could barely handle the cold at home, where central heating existed. At least we had blankets, moth-eaten or no. I tapped Jack on the shoulder, "hey Jack?"

"GAH!" Paper and charcoal flew in the air as Jack jumped, standing and whirling around and nearly hitting me again, "_Vicky?_"

"Shhh! You'll wake up Crutchie," to prove my point, Crutchie shifted a little in his sleep, but didn't wake.

Jack ran a hand through his hair, "What're you doin' up here? Shouldn't you be sleepin'?"

I raised my eyebrows, dried blood above them crackling, "Shouldn't _I _be sleeping? Shouldn't _you_ be sleeping?"

Jack sighed. He wore his striped sleeveless shirt for the night, his normal blue button-up draped over the railing, and his vest crumpled behind him. He sat down so we were at eye level. Scooping up his drawing, he crumpled it, and I winced at the sound of the crinkling paper.

"I was" he said, then scowled, "…hey you're tryin' ta turn dis on me, what about your head?"

"It's cuz of my stupid head that I can't sleep!" I threw my hands in the air, then let them plop back down again on my knees, shaking the floor.

"Shhh!" Jack smirked a little, "you'll wake up Crutchie."

I swiped my hand at him, but nearly burst out laughing. Ok. Time to do what I came for.

"I had an idea." I said.

"Oh, let me call the papes so it can make da headlines tomorrow." Jack leaned back against the rail, crossing his arms over his chest and looking entirely too pleased with himself. Even after seeing him in real life for over two weeks, unexpected sarcasm still proved a distraction… but no, focus.

"K, rude. But with any luck, well…." I took a deep breath, placing my fingers gently on either side of my head to try and clear the muck inside, "I wanna have a rally."

Jack raised an eyebrow, "A rally."

"Yeah, like the one y'all had during the strike that you went and ruined."

"Don' remind me," he looked away.

"Hey it wasn't your fault."

"Sure."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, someone was being difficult, "Anyways, we get all the newsies together, and maybe some representatives of other city kids. I mean, Pulitzer doesn't hate our guts anymore, so we can get press coverage. We can let everyone know that what's happening isn't ok and we aren't taking it lying down." I slammed my fist on the grating, which shook the whole balcony…again.

Jack sat up from where he was leaning, that unfortunately attractive eyebrow still higher than its twin, "An' what happens when the bulls come and we'se all arrested?"

"That's why we'll be careful. We've gotta stay calm, and just say what needs to be said in a way that doesn't incite a riot."

"Like that'll work," he still sounded skeptical. This was going nowhere.

"Well, we've got to try! We've got to do something! We can't just let Snyder pick us…pick us off…" silence fell across the roof, and it seemed to spread to the whole city. Though my eye hurt when I blinked, a tear leaked out, "I can't let anything happen to y'all."

"How d'ya think I feel?" his voice broke, and I regretted my own tears; if anyone deserved to cry it was him.

"I know. I know I'm being stupid. I'm just…I'm tired…and I know it's not the same. I just can't i-ignore my feelings because they're lesser…I…they're still there and….and everything hurts and…"

Jack scooted over, pulling his arms around me. I leaned on his shoulder, somehow more comfortable than I had been in my bed, realizing how far I'd come in terms of physical contact in just two weeks.

"You ain't stupid." Jack said softly, "In fact… you may be right."

"Really? Ow." I popped up, but my head protested and I slumped back down again.

"For sure,"

Wait, did he just say the thing? Dude, you can't just reuse old lines like that.

Jack shifted his weight beneath me, getting in a more comfortable position for me to rest my head, "we'll tell da guys tomorrow, and go ta da other Burroughs…and…." He sat up suddenly, forgetting I had been leaning on him, "and I'll make a drawin' about it, ta put in da papes!" He smiled, a genuine, not snarky smile.

"That sounds great! Oh, Crutchie…" Jack drew in a breath, glancing hurriedly at the sleeping boy. No reaction. Poor thing was so sleepy. I got up, hurrying over to the ladder, now at last ready to go down and to bed. A wave of dizziness struck as I neared it. I slipped, barely catching myself on the railing, my stomach flipped as I saw the streets below, "I'm ok. I'm ok."

Jack was to me in an instant, helping me back up.

"How'd'ya even get up here pullin' stuff like dat?"

"Crutchie got up here," I muttered, closing my eyes as new spots appeared.

"Yeah and I carried him cuz he's stubborn," he tried to guide me away from the edge, but I shoved him off.

"Well so am I, 'now I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed, or worse, expelled,'" the quote slipped out through my weakened filters, concerning Jack even more.

"Is you even thinkin' straight?"

"bold of you to assume I ever think straight."

Jack shook his head, "that's it, you're stayin' up here tonight."

"No! I can make it." Despite my protest, I allowed myself to be led away from the ladder, too worn out to shove him off again.

"Sure ya can, and I'm Governor Roosevelt."

"Jack," We stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to cave, but the more I thought about it, the more my head protested, the more I wanted to stay up here. I relented, "where will you go?"

"Huh?"

"If I stay the rest of the night up here, where will you…you know? I'm tired," If I didn't lie down soon I would fall down. I just knew it.

"I'll be fine without da mattress, I can sleep next ta Crutchie, he don' mind."

"I guueeeess." I let the whininess I felt inside seep out into my tone.

Jack guided me over to the mattress, which didn't stink at all, and definitely wasn't damp from the wet ground, nope. Jack reached for the blanket, but I snatched it away, determined not to be completely helpless. I spread it out, it was long enough to cover my legs but nothing higher. Of course, Jack had taken the tiniest, most threadbare blanket of them all. My stomach twisted a little when I thought of my makeshift curtains downstairs, but at this point my tiredness outweighed any guilt.

Jack went over to Crutchie, several feet away on the opposite side of the penthouse, observing the sleeping boy's position. Crutchie, in his sleep, managed to form the most awkward and impossible-seeming body contortions, much like the other newsies when awake. Jack lay down next to Crutchie, careful not to touch and jar him. He took his shirt from the railing and spread it unbuttoned like a blanket. Only when I saw him settled did I turn over, hoping against hope that now, I last, I would sleep.


	11. What in Time & Space? (Reprise)

**Chapter 10: What in Time and Space? (Reprise)**

"Hey Vicky could'ya slow down a little? My legs is too short!"  
"_Are _too short."

"Sorry kid. Just excited!" I spun around to emphasize my point. I had been skipping ahead of Davey and Les, eager to get to Brooklyn, tell Spot about my idea, and to see him again, because, let's face it, he's cute, and yeah, I should stop now, "Oh, and your brother's right about the grammar thing. I won't have another of you darlings corrupted by bad habits," Les made a face at "darling." I stuck my tongue out back. I promise I am a mature individual.

Although the mirror this morning said otherwise, I felt much better today than I had last night. That, or I was delirious from lack of sleep, a viable possibility. I had napped a little, during lunch. Jack split us up to go tell everyone about the rally. I had fallen asleep at the table next to Crutchie, and had woken up just in time to volunteer for Brooklyn, since I knew them and such. Davey and Les came too, because they had been there before and would keep me from wandering off, or running into trouble. Jack insisted this morning that no one sell alone, to prevent the Delanceys from baiting anyone else. He and Crutchie had paired up, which made me happy, because I loved their brotherly affection and may or may not have screamed again. I was with Race, which was…interesting. I only threatened to kill him twice though, so I took pride in that. If anything got Jack more worried, it was the events of yesterday, and Katherine wasn't even here for a pleasant distraction. Everyone missed Romeo, but they were optimistic about the new rally. Even if it helped nothing in reality, it brought up morale, and that was enough for me.

"'K, so we turn, here?" I pointed to the left.

"Nope!" said Les, he grabbed my hand and pointed it in the other direction, where I could make out the bridge in the distance.

"That's what I meant." I smiled sheepishly. Davey shook his head next to me, smiling.

"Allons-y!" I said, forging on.

"Excuse me?" Davey said.

I clapped my hand to my chest and huffed, spinning around, "Doth mine ears deceive me? A word David Jacobs doesn't know? I am agog! I am aghast! Is Marius…wait sorry, that's Les Mis... which is French! Like Allons-y!"

"What?"

I think I was making the poor guy's head spin. Speaking of, I did not need to spin, my head threatened to ache again. Ugh.

Davey looked at Les, who shrugged, "I know lots of words Davey don't," he told me, "Race taught me 'bout…"

"DON'T!" Davey and I both shouted at the same time.  
Davey knelt next to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Don't say any words Race teaches you, ok?" I nodded, pointing at Davey in agreement. Les nodded back.

I decided to explain myself, "Allons-y is French for 'Let's Go.' It's an expression I took from the Doctor," Davey raised his eyebrows and I knew I had lost him, "…never mind, I don't need to go into the whole story. I mean, I want to, but no. bad plan."

"Can we table the palaver and get going?" Les said, stomping the ground impatiently.

"After you!"

Les ran ahead; I followed at a walk, Davey beside me. "Les, wait up, Les!" As the younger boy ignored his brother's protests, Davey began to run as well. I followed, and soon we were all racing to the Brooklyn Bridge.

/

"Hiya Lanky!" I waved aggressively at the newsboy at the end of the bridge, "So where are the boys hanging out today, Ye old abandoned warehouse?"

Lanky glared at Davey and Les; I glared at him until he turned his attention to me. A flicker of amusement passed through his eye. I had come a long way from my first day, and it showed.

"We'se at da docks today," he said.

"Cool!" I bounced a little, but winced as it jolted some of my bruises. I should really calm down.

He raised his eyebrows, "'Da water is cool, but it's too cold for swimmin' …"

Ah how I loved confusing everyone with modern expressions!

"It's ok sweetie, don't strain yourself," Had I no restraint at all? Probably. I reached to pat him on the head, but he jumped back.

"I ain't…" Lanky's eyes widened, but he soon realized I was joking.

"Allons-y!" I said, skipping past him.

"Not dat way!"

/

We got to the docks, and I didn't make any more wrong turns. Ok, I made one wrong turn, but I had never been to the docks, so that was reasonable. The wind whipped across the dark planks of the boardwalk, dropping the temperature below its already chilly levels. I shivered. I had been cold all day, as I did not own a coat in this century. Race said I was being a girl when I mentioned the cold that morning. I reminded him that I _was_ a girl, and to shut up, but that didn't stop the cold.

"You'se can count Brooklyn in." said Spot, after hearing our proposal. I told him everything, including the bits about the fight with the Delanceys the other day, which made him about ready to march straight to Manhattan and take them on, but fortunately he decided to go with our plan.

"Yeet." I said, not thinking. I probably confused everyone again. Bleh.

Spot smiled, and his eyebrows flitted up and down. Ok. No. That should be illegal, honestly. Davey raised his eyebrows too, glancing at me. Was that Spot's normal smile? Because it looked almost…nope, no, I wasn't going there. I was imagining things. It didn't look flirty, nope. I had fallen in this trap before, back home. I wouldn't let it happen here just because someone happen to have nice arms and hair and face and ugh. I loved him. Well, I mean, I didn't _love _him, I just. What was I talking about? I certainly didn't know.

"Thank you," Davey said, breaking into my thoughts. Spot spat into his palm, and my mind split in two. Part one thought _My first spit shake, yesss! _Part two thought _so gross gross gross, and you can't even spit right crap. _

Davey, grimacing, spat into his own hand. The two looked at me. I bared my teeth nervously.

"Right. One moment," I gathered as much saliva as I could in my mouth, raised my hand, and…dribbled all down my shirt. I felt like Mulan. Bleh. I tried again, and succeeded in getting a small amount of spit on my hand. We all shook. Davey and I simultaneously attacked our hands with our pant legs. Spot's eyes followed my hand. Well, sorry dearie, I don't want your germs.

Les meanwhile, bored with our sales pitch, had wandered off to play with some of the younger Brooklyn boys. A loud crash echoed from the direction he had gone, followed by what sounded like an angry cat. I winced. Davey sighed, "I'll go get him. It'll be dark soon anyway," he glanced at Spot, who's eyes were still focused on me. I did not approve of these attention levels. He tilted his head in Spot's direction, mouth quirking to the side in question. I shrugged, and Davey jogged off in the direction of the crash.

Spot shifted from foot to foot. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them again. I wrung my hands together.

"So," I said, "You been doing alright?" I wanted to face palm.

"Usual," Spot responded, shifting a little. I realized he was staring at my face. I became suddenly aware of the homemade bandages and various bruises visible on my face. Ugh. Should I say something else?

"Aren't you cold?" Even more face palm.

Spot looked taken aback, but honestly, he could blame himself. He still didn't have sleeves, "I'se used to it."

"oh." Ugh. Why couldn't I conversate like a human? And yes, I know that's not a word, but if Shakespeare can do it so can I, right?

Davey ran up with Les in tow, the latter pouting at having to leave his new friends, pulling a bit at Davey's arm.

"Whelp." I said, "I guess we best be going." I turned to leave, but Spot called after me.

"Wait!" I stopped. "I meant ta ask you'se somethin'"

Some sort of weird mix of alarm bells and butterflies went off in my head, "Oh?"

He rocked back on his heels, "Dere's dis new fair openin' up tomorrow night, and I was wonderin' if you'se would like ta go sometime?"

Wait what? Time and space. What?

"Go? Like with you go? Wait what?"

"We'se could go night afta' tomorrow, I'd pick ya up in 'hattan so you wouldn't have ta come by yaself." He smiled, a hopeful smile. I, of course, was dying. I must have looked as much, because his grin faltered. "That is if ya want to."

Did that really just happen? Have I actually understood? Oh yeah, I should answer, "wait, no, yes! Oh my time and space you're asking me out. This is…ok…"

"Is that a…" he moved his eyebrows again and I started planning my funeral.

"Yes. That's a yes. Oh my time and space." I stomped my feet rapidly, shaking my arms and basically flopping around like a fish, which caused looks of consternation from the Brooklyn boys, but a chuckle from Spot himself.

"Well I'll see ya 'den Victoria, 'bout sunset?"

"uhuh" Was I dreaming? I was dreaming. Clearly, I was dreaming.

"Vicky?" Davey's voice called from the top of the abyss.

"Huh?"

"We gotta go?"

"Oh yeah right."

I had to break the news to the boys!

/

"WHAT?" Finch yelled.

"She's lyin'" said Albert, dismissing my claim with his hand.

"Nah she ain't, he was makin' eyes at her the whole time he was droppin' her here," said Race, lounging next to him upside down and twirling his cigar in his fingers.

"I don't know about 'dat" said Mush from the table.

"I don't either Mush, but here we are." I said, raising my hands.

"What'd he say about 'da rally?" Crutchie asked. He sat in his usual set of chairs, looking only a little worse for wear. I could make out the lumps of one or two bandages from under his shirt, and a few more bruises decorated the side of his face. Oh yeah, I had bruised cheeks, a near black eye, and a giant rag draped around my forehead, and now a guy asked me out! I should have tried this strategy ages ago! I snapped my fingers into a finger-gun as the rest of my news came to mind.

"He said yes to that too!"

"Am I the only one hearing wedding bells?" Race rolled back over, accidentally kicking Albert as he did so.

"Racetrack Higgins one more word and I will…"

"Have your beau soak me? Let 'em try!" As soon as Race finished his sentence, Albert smacked him on the side of the face. Soon the two were engaged in one of those slap fights, no one doing any actual damage and neither looking at the other.

I rolled my eyes; my brain started running its own mental calculations as to who would win both the fight between Spot and Race and the fight between Race and Albert, but it didn't really know, so I gave up.

"Gee, I bet Romeo would've loved this," Elmer said, his chin resting on his hands. The mood in the room turned dark, and one of the lamps flickered in the wall.

I walked over to him, "Hey, we'll get him back. After this rally, everyone in the city will know about him."

"Really?" he looked up a little.  
"Yup." I said, trying to convince myself.

Silence fell. I sat for a moment and enjoyed it, like a taste of the blissful solitude I once knew. I had often considered taking a walk by myself, to clear my head and recharge through alone time. But the people on the streets existed, and so did police officers and thugs, and Snyder. No, too much risk. But how I missed my me-time. I might snap if I didn't get some soon.

"Hey, what's with all 'da seriousity all a 'sudden?" Race said, leaping up and jumping over Jojo and Buttons, who sat on the floor below him. A horrible decision really.

"Hmm…I dunno, it's not like we're worried about our friend or anything," I said.

"Hey, why don't ya tell us that story ya mentioned?" said Jojo, as he simultaneously took aim at Race's rear with his hat.

"Which one?"

"Da one with da boats." Said Elmer.

I glanced sideways at him, "What?"  
"Ya know…"

"no I don't…oh wait!" I pondered for a moment before connecting the dots. I never got around to the story I promised the boys on my second night. Either not everyone gathered, or something else needed our attention, or they just didn't feel like it. "I think you mean spaceships," Elmer nodded aggressively "Alright."

"Everyone gather round!" shouted Jojo, as he ran around the room to escape Race's wrath. Albert grabbed Race by the vest to stop him chasing, and Jojo plopped down next to Henry.

"Ok. Y'all ready?" The boys nodded, leaning forward in their excitement. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…"


	12. Chapter Eleven: Up to Something

_A/N So I realized that when I posted this story on here I forgot the brief explanation of Weeping Angels I put in the Wattpad edition, oops! Also I have no idea how to work the reviews right, so I couldn't respond (if that is a thing) but thank you to the person who asked about them so I realized this! So, the Weeping Angels are a creature from _Doctor Who._They appear as stone statues until you look away, and only when no one is looking can they move. They are so fast that they can cross a room just when the lights flicker, or when someone blinks. When they touch people, they can send them back in time, then feed off of the time energy this causes. Any statue could be a Weeping Angel, but they most commonly look like full sized angel statues. They are "weeping" because if they looked at each other, they would be permanently frozen, so they keep their eyes covered until they latch onto a victim, giving the appearance of weeping. Basically, they are the perfect way to send a character back in time and get them stuck there. I'll try to remember to post other summaries when I crossover with other things! _

_Anyway, on with the story!_

**Chapter 11: Up to Something**

"I am a complete idiot. There's no other explanation. I'm insane. I'm crazy. I'm…"

"You're hoggin' da mirror is what you're doin'" Albert said, "Though I ain't disputin' the other stuff."

"Wow, a three-syllable word! I didn't know you had it in you!" I spun out from in front of the mirror and around Albert, poking my tongue out as I went.

"I don' think you'se an idiot." Said Buttons, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his bunk. He ran his fingers through his hair, stretching it out to its fullest length in front of his eyes before tucking it back where it was supposed to go with a shrug.

"No, it's not that. It just only just hit me this morning that I have a date tomorrow night and I look like…" I gestured at my rumpled, dirty boy clothing, in addition to my still beat-up looking face and drab hair, "Not to mention the fact that I even have a date! I had literally nothing back home. This is nonsense."

No response. Not that I expected one. I had no clue what was going on, and they were boys, why should they care?

We got good reports about the new rally. With all of the newsies unionized, they kind of had to come, but they seemed eager, as did some of the other city children. Jack's cartoons were getting published too, which made him feel at least slightly better. Honestly, I wanted to go punch whatever stupid political editor it was that was keeping Jack from the proper, full-time position he had been offered. I also wondered a little why Jack didn't go himself, but I guess he was less willing to fight for his own interests than he was to fight for his friends. I worried about him some, because I knew he would burn himself out if he dedicated all his energy to the boys and none to himself. Still, if we could get Romeo out, and keep the rest of us safe, maybe Crutchie, Davey and I could get together and force Jack to practice self-care.

I avoided Oscar and Morris's eyes when I bought my papes. A good part of me wanted to glare them down, to show them I refused to let them intimidate me. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. When we got the papes we were all in for a surprise. Pulitzer himself wrote an editorial against the Refuge, denouncing Snyder. I guess he realized that if all of the kids on the street got arrested, no one could sell his papers. I always knew he had a good side somewhere, even if it was economically motivated.

Jack and Specs planned on sneaking up to the Refuge today, to try and check on Romeo and assess the situation. My heart clenched at the thought. I longed to just march on the place, storm the gates and demand the release of anyone trapped there; if only I had influence, and money, and such. Ugh.

They returned just after lunch. In whispers in the square, they confirmed our worst fears. The Refuge looked just as bad as before, if not worse. Although it was less crowded, it was filling up quick, the Delanceys weren't the only goons Snyder had in his pocket. Not to mention, with fewer boys there, Snyder and the guards were giving the boys more attention, and that didn't mean food and bedtime stories. Bars had been installed on all the windows, so there was no way for anyone to get in or out beside the front door. "I told Romeo 'bout da rally though, he told us good luck,"

"He actually seemed more interested in Vicky's date." Specs added.

"Of course he did." I said. I smiled, but a good part of me wanted to cry.

Another silence sunk in as we processed the news.

"Hey Vicky?" Crutchie said, "I'se needin' ta head back to da lodge, so can you'se sell with someone else?"

"Um…sure? Are you…?"

"I'se fine."

His expression looked strange; he wouldn't meet my eyes. I didn't believe him, but he looked fine, in fact he was smirking a little. Oh dear. And here I thought he was the innocent one.

/

This was officially the last day I ever sold with Race. Darkness had fallen a couple of hours ago, but he insisted on staying at the races until they were done, leaving me alone and bored in unfamiliar territory while he gambled all of his money away. Actually, he hadn't gambled it away, I think he actually earned some. Evidently, he had a talent, and not just because he knew some of the stable boys at the track. Of course, when the people who lost to him realized that he knew the stable boys, they accused him of cheating, and the two of us were forced to run most of the way back to the lodge.

"You know," I said, "If I weren't so WORN OUT from all this RUNNING I would STAB you," I panted, bending over with one hand on my knee and the other clutching a stitch in my side.

"Please, ya know ya love me," Race, somehow still having energy, ran around in a circle before trying flop down and lean on me, I dodged away and he tripped, scooting into some scrap metal piled nearby.

"That was your own fault!"

When we got back to the lodge, Les waited for us outside.

"Les? Shouldn't you be home by now?" I asked. I now regretting not letting Race lean on me earlier, now I wanted to flop on something or someone and he was the only available option at the moment.

"Nope! Davey's in there!" He pointed.

I inched toward Race, wondering if he would trip me if I tried to lean on him. He noticed and stepped away. I sighed, "Why don't we just go in then?"

"We can't!" He ran in front of me, blocking my way into the lodging house.

I crossed my arms, "And why not?"

"Cuz I left somethin' at the square this mornin' and I need someone to come get it with me."

"And none of the boys will take you?"  
"They says its haunted at night."

I looked over at Race, eyebrows raised. He shrugged. No help.

"Please Vicky? It can't wait till mornin'"

I sighed. "Fiiiiine."

"Yippee!" Les grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of the distribution center. Race did not accompany us, I peeked over my shoulder to notice him slipping inside when he thought we weren't looking. Hmmm. Something was going on here, the question was what.

Les and I reached the square. The gates, naturally, stood closed, sentinels barring us entrance to the main area. With the lingering wet from yesterday's rain, the gloom of the carved stone around, and the light rust sprinkling the steel bars, the place certainly looked like a ghost may lurk there. Les squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back.

"It's inside there…" Les pointed.  
"Well kid, it looks like you'll have to wait until morning."

"Please, I can fit through those bars no problem." He broke out of my grip and flitted to the gate.

"_Les wait! _We don't know who else might be…" And he was already through the gate, creeping around the cobblestone interior, hunting for who knows what, if it even existed.

I didn't breathe until he slipped his way back through the bars, gripping something in his hand that he refused to let me see. Yeah, pretty sure he was faking. We walked back to the lodging house with no incident, something for which I was grateful, one would think a girl and a small boy, or two fairly young boys, would be easy targets for unsavory characters.

When we reached the lodge, Les tried to run up ahead of me, but I beat him to it and slung the door open, hard. Most of Manhattan's newsies huddled together in the center of the room, but when they saw me, they jumped back, like squirrels when a dog is let loose nearby.

"Hello boys!" I shouted, "And what are we up to this fine evening?"

"Nothin'!" Elmer half-shouted. Several other boys nodded in agreement. Some had backed up so far, they had reached the walls in the back of the building.

"Yeah, we was jus'….playin' a game is all!" Jojo said.

"Really?" I walked over to him and leaned forward, he scrambled back, refusing to meet my gaze. "What game?"

"I-I…"

"We cans't say…" Elmer said, "you wouldn' like it…"

"Oh?" I turned on Elmer, Jojo wiped his brow behind me. "And how would I know that until I tried it?"  
"Cuz…cuz is not a, not a," Elmer looked wildly around for help. The other boys shrugged at him. "It's not a …nice game?" His entire face flushed. Davey pinched the bridge of his nose, done with everyone and everything. Same Davey. Maybe I should let them out of their misery.

"Weeeeeell," I spun around and nearly tripped, again, "I think I'll just go up to bed, wanna be well rested for tomorrow and all…"

"Really?!" Jojo shouted. Yeah, they definitely were keeping something from me. I saw Crutchie sat near the middle of the room, where all the boys had previously been gathered. He waved, grinning in a "Nope! No Secrets Here!" sort of way. Jack was nowhere in sight. I narrowed my eyebrows at Jojo, quirking my mouth to the side. He grinned wide, wider than usual with lots of teeth, but said nothing. I needed better interrogation skills.

"Goodnight boys!"


End file.
